


Parents

by orphan_account



Series: Families [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adoption, Alpha!Iwaizumi, Alpha!Oikawa, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega!Kageyama, Phone Sex, oikawa and iwaizumi are parents, omega!hinata, seijoh!kageyama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-30 11:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Oikawa had never planned on being a parent, he had never planned on adopting a kid."Now, though, he couldn't imaginenothaving a kid. Funny how life worked out like that."***[a light a/b/o universe where alphas oikawa and iwaizumi adopt a tiny tobio]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really weird au that was inspired largely by the stage play and my own family. I'm not sure how my brain concocted it, but I like it regardless.  
> This story will be written in 3 parts. The first focuses on Kageyama growing up. The second focuses on Oikawa and his relationship with Iwaizumi. The third focuses on Kageyama and Hinata.  
> Thank you all so much for giving this fic a try. Please enjoy!
> 
> {EDIT 11/28/17: ha. it’s actually going to be 4 parts because i have no self control}

Freezing cold water dumped over his head. Not real water, no, but the chilling feeling of realization as he watched the other families in the park.

Tobio knew his family was weird. It was weird for a married couple to have an adopted child rather than one of their own. It was weird that they didn’t share a last name. It was weird that he was only legally adopted by one of his dads instead of both of them. None of that had ever been concealed from him. Neither Oikawa nor Iwaizumi had tried to veil their family’s peculiarity behind a constructed facade.

Knowing, however, is very different from understanding.

He didn’t understand how different they truly were until he was 8 years old and watching the families in the park. The kids look like their parents, and even though Tobio’s parents were committed fully, they weren’t married, and he knew all the other parents were. It made him want to cry, even though there was nothing wrong with his family. After ten years, he finally noticed the dirty looks they got when his dads held hands. Finally noticed that his family was different.

It had been a lovely day before that. He’d gotten ice cream and pet dogs at the dog park and Iwa helped him climb a tall tree and nothing was wrong, except that everything was wrong.

When he started crying, he didn’t know how to explain to Dad and Iwa that he’d finally seen the giant barrier that divided their family from everyone else. It was a canyon he was always standing at the edge of, but had never noticed until he saw the people glaring at him from the other side. It sickened him, nauseated him. He couldn't understand why or how he'd never seen the canyon, only knew that he wished he hadn't.

Dad knelt down on his knees to wipe away Tobio's tears, gently asking him what was wrong. He couldn't get the words out, he couldn't describe the feeling, sobs were forced from his throat every time he tried.

"Tobio? Tobio, if you can't talk will you please just nod or shake your head when I ask you questions?" he asked quietly, a hand cupping the side of his face, still wiping away the fat tears that fell from the corners of his eyes. He nodded obediently, wiping snot away with the back of his hand. "Do you hurt somewhere? Is that why you're crying?" He shook his head. "Are you overwhelmed?" A nod. "Do you want to go home?" Another nod. He watched as Dad silently glanced over to Iwa to seek his approval.

"We've been out here long enough. We can have dinner at home. I'm sure we have something easy to make." He shrugged his shoulders, a sort of nonresponse to an easy question. "Does that sound good to you, Tobio?"

"It does," he was able to force out, the words breathy and squeaky from the sobs and the mucus in his throat.

He pretended like he couldn't hear his parent's concerned whispers over his head. Tobio never meant to worry them. He was adopted, and adopted kids came with problems. He didn't need to cause any more on top of the typical ones. They held his hands all the way back to the car, and even though Tobio didn't like holding hands much, he took comfort in the physical contact.

Watching the scenery fly past was calming. It was so simple, and took little effort to focus on. With nothing to focus on, and no people around them to judge, he felt safe and protected again. If they'd stayed at the park he'd surely still be in tears.

"Why aren't you married?" Tobio asked wholeheartedly, eyes finally leaving the windows. Silence fell over the car as Dad and Iwa desperately tried to find an answer.

"Some people don't like that Dad and I are alphas. They think you shouldn't marry people who are the same as you, so Dad and I can't get married," Iwa explained calmly, turning around a bit so he could face Tobio from the passenger seat.

"Oh." He knew what that meant. He knew how much pressure people put on these designations of alpha, beta, and omega. He knew that he was probably going to be an alpha, and that people treated him accordingly. He knew that omegas belonged with alphas, and no one else, and the same applied to alphas. "I wish that you could get married."

"We do too, Tobio. Maybe someday we'll be able to."

***

Maybe it was because his entire family was made up of alphas, maybe it was his height and his irritable personality, but Tobio had always assumed he would be an alpha. Just like his dads, and everyone else, expected him to be an alpha.

Even if he had anticipated being an omega, nothing could have prepared him to actually experience his first heat.

A week before, Tobio started to feel wrong. Every little thing irritated him. Sounds, lights, things people said to him. Iwa had told him to wash his dish instead of leaving it in the sink and the rest of the night he was irritated by it. He dismissed it the first few days. It was probably just tournament stress, right? No big deal.

On the fourth day is when he noticed something was weird. His energy levels were way down, and he didn’t feel like moving let alone dealing with people at school or playing volleyball. Nothing ever prevented him from playing volleyball, yet everything in his body ached, telling him that under no circumstances should he step on to a court.

So, he didn’t. He skipped practice and came home early, explaining the issue away by saying he was feeling ill and didn’t want to slow the rest of the team down. Dad believed him without any further questioning, Iwa checked him for a fever and sent him away to bed, telling him to rest up because there was no way that he was letting him go to the tournament at the end of the week running a high fever. The thought of not being able to go to the tournament burned his insides up. They couldn't stop him from playing volleyball! That was unfair, and horrible and he'd have to go anyway. 

He sulked in his bed, pulling the covers over his head despite the fact that he was overheated. The waves of heat passed through his body. It was the fever, just the fever and nothing else. Maybe he could get Dad to give him some medication, so it would go away. Pain killers would be nice, something to take away the aches the settled in every crevice of his body. Or maybe sleep would help. 

No matter how many times he tossed and turned, though, he couldn't get comfortable. Sleeping seemed impossible without some sort of aid. 

Reluctantly, he rolled out of his bed, keeping his comforter wrapped around him as he shuffled out to the kitchen again, frown heavily on his face, and his hair mussed from his pillow. 

"How're you feeling, Tobio? I was thinking I'd make soup for dinner," Dad asked, cheerily enough for it to irritate him. He shuffled further into the kitchen leaning his head into his father's back and sighing heavily. Oikawa didn't move, but Tobio felt him chuckle fondly. "Not so hot, huh?"

"I'm tired," he whined into the fabric of his dad's shirt.

"You should go get some sleep. Seriously." He turned around to face Tobio, running a hand through his dark hair to fix his bedhead. "I know you don't want to, and that you're upset about volleyball, but if you don't sleep you won't get better."

"I  _can't_  sleep. Everything hurts." 

"Then we'll get you some medicine," he declared, stepping back to retrieve some pain killers from the medicine cabinet. 

Tobio's head was fuzzy, and it was hard to focus on the quiet conversation coming from down the hall. He shut his eyes tight and leaned against the counter, concentrating solely on the words filtering into the room.

"--presenting, he'll need suppressants," came Iwaizumi's voice, halfway through his sentence. 

"We can't give him suppressants if we don't know what he'll present as. That could screw up his hormones forever!" Oikawa protested. Kageyama could vaguely make out the sound of rattling pill bottles. 

"Then give him something to put him to sleep, at least. We can get him suppressants as soon as he presents. For now, we have to wait it out," he offered as a solution. "Give him some melatonin and chamomile, it'll knock him out while we work out a solution."

"I hate that he has to go through this," Oikawa muttered.

"There's nothing else we can do, Tooru." The sound of footsteps, and then a quieter voice, "There's no way he's going to that tournament, though. Not if he's going to present."

"He's not going to forgive us easily for that."

"He'll have to get over it, then."

The irritation and fury bubbled up in him again. Nothing, not an illness, not presenting, not divine intervention could prevent him from going to that tournament. He'd have to leave and get to the bus without them knowing. He walked to school every morning anyway. There was nothing wrong with that. The team needed him to win. That second-string setter wasn't even near his level. Putting him in was an instant loss. He absolutely had to play, presenting or not. 

“Dad?” he called out weakly, hoping that he’d be given the medication he was promised so that he could play. If he was better by the time the tournament came around, then he’d be able to play. Staying medicated was the best way to do that, right?

“I’m coming, sweetheart. Sorry to make you wait so long,” he apologized coming back out with a bottle of acetaminophen and a bottle of melatonin. “I’m going to make you some tea and then you can get some sleep.” Tobio scrunched his nose. He hated tea, it barely had any flavor. 

“I’ll be able to play at the tournament, won’t I?” he pleaded, trying his best puppy eyes out. Oikawa always was the weaker parent, especially when it came to things like this. Tobio could almost always talk him into things that Iwa would never approve of, especially when it came to volleyball. 

They’d told him stories, throughout his life, about playing volleyball when they were in school. Oikawa was a setter, like Tobio was, and he was very skilled. The Grand King, he’d been called. Iwaizumi played as his wing spiker, his ace. They were an incredible duo that played at Aoba Johsai, and they almost made it to nationals several years in a row. When he was younger, Tobio hadn’t cared much for their stories of the glory days, but as he grew older, and his athletic talents grew more apparent, he couldn’t help wanting to follow in their footsteps. He was sure they were elated to have a kid as passionate about volleyball as they once were, the least he could do was work his hardest at it. 

He hadn’t told them, but he was already studying for Seijoh’s entrance exam. 

Winning this tournament would give him even better chances to get in, maybe even invited in because of his volleyball. 

That was his hope, at least. If he didn’t play at this tournament and had no chance at being scouted by them, then he’d be forced to take the entrance exam, and Tobio was never all that good at school. His chances would be a lot lower if that happened. 

It wouldn’t, though. Because Dad was definitely going to let him go to the tournament even if—

“I can’t make any promises, Tobio.” 

 _What?_ He couldn’t make any promises? This was his last competition before high school!

“I have to play!” he protested. “They’ll lose without me! Our other setter is useless. If I don’t play we’ll lose our chance to go to nationals, and I lose all chances of getting invited to a powerhouse school.”

“I know, I know. Playing while you’re sick could make everything worse, though. Iwa and I don’t want you to get hurt.” The sincerity in his voice made the bad news even worse. He wouldn’t be able to talk either of them into letting him play at the tournament.

He crossed his arms, his comforter sliding back on his shoulders as he sulked. Stupid. It was so stupid that he wouldn’t be able to play if he were sick. 

He’d be better by the tournament. He had to be. There was no way he was going otherwise. 

“We aren’t doing this to be mean, or stop you from playing,” Iwa explained from behind him. In his anger, he hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen. Great. Now he was being double teamed. Damn his parents’ communication. “We get it. Being benched from an important game is awful, but it’s better that than getting seriously hurt. You have to trust that your teammates will win.”

“As if,” Kageyama scoffed, scowling at the thought. None of his teammates were serious enough about winning. The only people on the team who were even halfway decent were Kunimi and Kindaichi, and they refused to put effort in. For being a team renowned for their volleyball team, they sure had some sucky players on it.

“Tobio,” came Iwa’s stern warning. They really hated that Tobio didn’t exactly play well with others. He’d really tried to be nicer, he had. It’s not his fault that half his volleyball team was only there for fun and the other half was awful. If they put more into it and practiced instead of goofing around, he wouldn’t have to worry about losing games. 

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled bitterly. The kettle whistled and his tea (that he was regretfully going to drink) began to steep. 

With a little honey, it wasn’t terrible, but he still hated the taste. It warmed his insides, sliding down his throat and settling in his stomach. The melatonin kicked in, and the acetaminophen dulled his pain. If he rested well, he’d surely be allowed to play on Saturday. 

Except, no matter how much rest he got, no matter how much medicine he choked down, he only felt continually worse. The waves of heat he felt pulsing through him intensified, and the aches and pains burned. By the day of the tournament, he could barely move. His alarm went off. Getting out of bed was a struggle, and his legs wobbled when he walked across his room. He was thankful he didn’t fall, because that would have woken up at least Dad. 

Creeping out to the kitchen was near impossible. As soon as he stepped out the door, he was overwhelmed with the smell of the house. Like cloves and cinnamon and gingerbread. The aroma hurt his head, pain at his temples. It was probably some new scented candle or spray that Dad was trying out. He’d have to tell him that this one couldn’t stay. 

Deliberately, he ignored his symptoms as he walked to the school. As long as he could make it to the tournament, that would be okay. Even if he couldn’t play, seeing the outcome of the game was worth it. He’d cheer them on, if nothing else. 

Getting on to the bus was dizzying. The scent at the house had given him a headache, but the mix of smells on the bus put so much painful pressure on his skull he thought it might implode. Why was this happening? Had everyone decided to wear their strongest cologne to the tournament? Did he miss an important club meeting? Surely not. Surely. 

Kunimi eyed him suspiciously when he collapsed in the seat across from him. 

“So you skip practice for days but decide to show up to the tournament?” Kindaichi snapped at him when he saw him seated near the window. “Are you too good to attend practice now?” The more he spoke, the more heat and pain Kageyama felt. Kindaichi settled into the seat next to Kunimi, obscuring Tobio’s view of the other boy. 

 _Back off, listen to him_ , his thoughts screamed at him, the pressure headache intensifying. 

“I was sick, asshole,” Kageyama bit back, against his better judgement. 

“Of course you were.” He could hear the eye roll in Kunimi’s tone. 

“I was!” he shouted, resisting the urge to stand so he could say it to Kunimi’s face. “I had a fever and everything.”

He heard both of them scoff, but neither pressed further. Thank god, they didn’t. Talking was even more painful than moving around. 

Kageyama stayed slumped against the window the entire bus ride, feeling the bumps in the road rattle every part of him. Fleeting thoughts came through his head. Maybe he should have stayed home. Maybe Dad and Iwa were right to tell him that he should stay home and rest until he was better. Every time he moved it burned, how the hell was he supposed to play volleyball like that? 

He missed the second step when exiting the bus. More people meant more smells, and more smells meant more headache. While walking in to the gymnasium he had to stop multiple times to recollect himself. He wished he’d had the insight to bring pain killers for himself. 

Inside, his steps faltered, he nearly fell multiple times. Walking with Kitagawa Daiichi was growing to be too much. He rushed off to the bathrooms as soon as he had the opportunity. A quiet hallway would be better than this crowd. Being around Kindaichi proved especially difficult for some reason, and Kageyama really needed to get away from it. 

He snapped at two of his own teammates who were bragging for no reason. Those two could barely serve a ball, let alone play on the team. The nerve of idiots like that, riding off the coattails of their school’s reputation. 

Their first opponent’s captain was there, his stomach unsettled, looking more nervous than anyone else who was at this tournament. He was the only one he’d spoken to at this entire tournament who didn’t give him a headache, though. 

Kageyama couldn’t shake his irritability from the morning’s events, and ended up criticizing Yukigaoka’s captain instead of thanking him for not furthering his pain. 

Even as the redhead challenged him, insisting that he would win the tournament despite his weak team, the sweet scent of citrus and sugar poured off of him, relaxing the tense joints that had been stiff for a week. He could breathe again, and walked off thankful for the relief. 

Warmups and then the game. That was all he had to get through. Warmups and the game. No problem. Easy. 

Everything stopped when he stepped into the gymnasium. 

The pulses of heat became fire with every breath he took. The pressure headache grew into splitting pain, the scents overwhelming him. He couldn’t take another step out, his legs giving out beneath him. Everything was so hot, so dizzying, so overwhelming that he could barely breathe. 

Kageyama didn’t hear the panicked shouts as consciousness faded from him. 

***

“How were we supposed to know he was going to sneak out? He’s never pulled something this stupid before,” came Dad’s voice, fuzzily ringing in Tobio’s ears. 

“He’s a teenager, Tooru. He’s going to do stupid things. It’s our job as parents to make sure that he doesn’t make a habit of it,” was Iwa’s even response. “God knows you definitely would have done something like that at 14.”

“I would not have!” he protested loudly. “That isn’t the point anyway.”

“Don’t lie to yourself. You might not have snuck out of the house to attend a tournament, but you worked yourself into the hospital at least three times. We all do stupid things as teenagers, okay? We have to be reasonable. Yes, it was stupid. Yes, there needs to be real consequences. We can’t ruin his life, though,” Iwa fought back. Dad had been in the hospital? Three different times?

“They were minor injuries, Iwa-chan.”

“And all Tobio did was pass out. Don’t blow this out of proportion because you’re upset.”

“Of _course_ I’m upset! Our kid ran away! I have every right to be upset about it.” He gestured wildly, pacing back and forth along the tiny room.

“I’m not _saying_ you don’t have a right to be upset, Shittykawa. I’m _saying_ that Tobio shouldn’t be punished more than necessary because of your irrationality. That’s not fair to him, and we’re better than that as pare—”

“Can you please stop shouting?” Tobio requested quietly, guilt weighing in his stomach. Both heads snapped towards him immediately, fight halting immediately. Dad moved over to his bedside and ran a steady hand through his hair. The same calming motion he always used.

“You feeling better?”

“A little,” Tobio answered, biting his bottom lip. “I’m sorry.” The room’s tone shifted to tense again. Iwa and Dad looked away from him, deciding what to say, what to share.

“You really scared us, Tobio,” is what Iwa finally managed to break the silence with. “You can’t pull things like that. We were lucky this time that it was something so small. Doing something like this again could be _very_ dangerous. Especially when you’re going into heat.”

“He’s exactly right. You could’ve—” Tobio interrupted Tooru’s elaboration looking distressed.

“Heat?” he blurted, completely baffled. “I’m an _omega?_ And this…this fever I’ve had for the past week. That was me presenting?”

“It was. We weren’t sure about it at first. The doctors say you’re absolutely an omega, though. Despite having _two_ alpha dads,” Tooru affirmed, slumping onto the bed Tobio was on and crossing his arms.

“They’ve got you on suppressants here at the hospital. When we get home, though we’ll have to take you off them and let you ride it out,” Iwa muttered, sounding put off by the entire situation. He probably was, if Tobio had any time or energy to put into thinking about others’ feelings. Tobio himself was feeling extraordinarily overwhelmed from the thought of heat.

Heat was for adults. Heat was sex, having children, having a partner. It was never something Tobio thought he’d have to go through. He was supposed to be an alpha, he was supposed to be. His family was alphas, his height, his strength, his attitude, it all screamed alpha.

He was an omega, though. An omega who had heats and could get pregnant and had to take suppressants and maybe even _birth control._ The thought of it made him squirm. Everything he’d thought about himself and his body was wrong, and it shrunk him to the size of an ant. Small and vulnerable waiting to be crushed by something—some _one_ much bigger than he’d considered.

“ _Ride it out?_ ” he repeated, memories of the heat and pain from that morning came rushing back to him. An entire week of that? Four times a year? Omegas must be strong as hell.

“Doctors suggest the first heat shouldn’t be altered by medication. It can really fuck up your hormones,” Iwa sighed.

“Hajime! Language!”

***

Tobio felt the suppressants lose their effect quickly. The heat returned to him, the pain returned to him, even the sensitivity to smells returned to him. Dizziness hit him shortly after the headache returned, and his dads could sense it. Or smell it or something. Tobio wasn’t quite sure how the whole alpha and omega scent thing worked yet. That was a question that could wait until _after_ his heat, though.

“Tobio? Has the medication worn off?” Dad called out from the living room. Tobio whimpered in response, hypersensitivity stealing the words from him. Tooru rushed towards his room and wrapped an arm around the boy, guiding him out to the living room and wrapping him in the fluffiest blanket they owned.

In any other circumstance, Tobio would never agree to sitting in his dad’s lap. He was 14, tall, and fairly responsible. Certainly not the sort of person who would snuggle up to his parents.

Yet, this was the second thing in a week that had eased the pain and the heat that had overtaken his body. He sat facing Oikawa, seated in his lap, with his nose buried beneath his chin. The familiarity of his dad’s scent soothed him. Enough to make his eyelids heavy and body comfortable. He rested easily, seated in that way, dreams prodding at his psyche, reminding him of the only other person who had relieved him of his heat.

Yukigaoka’s captain. He’d met him for under a minute in the hall, but the determined expression on his face, and the fiery curls of hair were permanently branded into his memory. He hoped to meet him again someday, to thank him properly for his sugary scent that allowed him to move a little further along the halls. If only he could remember his name. It had to be something that fit him well. Something bright and warm, like the sun. Something like…like….

Too much movement. There was too much movement for him to sleep. What could Dad possibly be doing that would make him move this much?

Tobio let his eyes flit open and focus on the world around him, pulling him from the sleep hazed thoughts that had previously weighed upon him.

Kissing. Dad and Iwa were kissing over his head as if he weren’t even there. He rolled his eyes, slumping his head down again.

“You two are _gross,_ ” he groaned into Dad’s shoulder. “I’m _right here._ You’re corrupting me.” It took all of his strength not to cringe when he heard them separate.

“ _Teaching,_ Tobio. We’re not corrupting you, just _teaching_ ,” Oikawa corrected, settling a hand in Tobio’s hair again.

“Oh god. _We’re_ our child’s bad influence,” Iwaizumi said quietly, as if he were only now realizing that every bad thing Tobio had learned had come from them. Save for a few more inappropriate slang terms he’d learned from school.

“We weren’t even being bad. It was a kiss!” Tobio shifted out of his dad’s lap, moving to the kitchen to acquire some food. Sleeping like that had made any immediate issues go away. He didn’t feel feverish any more, but he was completely _famished._ He wasn’t sure if this was a normal teenager thing or a heat thing. Regardless, he needed food as quickly as possible.

“What happens when Tobio starts dating? Look at what we’re teaching him.”

“You say that like Tobio’s been interested in someone before. Trust me, dating is a long way off,” Oikawa scoffed, crossing his arms. Tobio settled into the old, worn recliner chair adjacent to the couch, a collection of snacks and sweets in his arms, watching his parents bicker like an old married couple.

“And my mother said the same thing about me a month before you decided to make out with me in the locker rooms. Before you know it, he’ll be bringing home some volleyball freak that he hit it off with.” Iwaizumi stood in front of the couch, jabbing an accusing finger at Oikawa, other hand on his hip. Oikawa sat on the couch, arms crossed, and a disbelieving look in his eyes. They were the picture-perfect model of a typical disagreement in their household. Frankly, it was the best entertainment Tobio had watched in a week.

“ _Right._ And pigs can fly,” Oikawa scoffed, rolling his eyes in the same way that Tobio would.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Tobio spoke up, pausing to take another bite of the strawberry yogurt he’d pulled from the fridge, “I don’t plan on making out in any locker rooms any time soon.”

“I’m calling bullshit on both of you. I guarantee you that within his first year of high school he’ll have a partner,” Iwa insisted, glaring at both of them.

“You’re on. You’ll owe me a nice date if you’re wrong,” Oikawa wagered.

Preoccupied with his food, Kageyama didn’t notice that both Oikawa and Iwaizumi had turned to him, awaiting his wager in this competition that they had concocted. He glanced up with wide eyes.

“Isn’t it unfair for me to be part of this? I could make myself win, if I wanted. Isn’t that cheating?” Tobio questioned. Their expressions didn’t change. A sigh. “Fine. I don’t think I’ll have a partner until my second year in high school.”

“If I’m right, you both owe me a Godzilla marathon.” Tooru and Tobio groaned. He always made them watch the super old black and white Godzilla movies where the action scenes looked completely fake. Tobio felt himself growing bored even thinking about them.

“If that’s the case then you both owe me a practice match.”

“It’s a deal.”

***

Kageyama’s heat passed without further incident. He spent most of his time resting with one of his dads. He would be embarrassed to admit this, but he spent every night snuggled between them in bed like a much smaller child. Without that, he doubted he would have made it through the week of misery. Luckily, as soon as it was over, he’d been taken to the doctor and prescribed suppressants, so he wouldn’t have to take a week off of school every single time heat hit him. They still recommended that he ride one out without suppressants once a year, but that was something to worry about later.

His team had lost the tournament (as predicted). They needed him, especially without a quality backup setter. He couldn’t stand watching that idiot play, even during practice. When they were paired up for practice, it was even worse.

To vent his frustrations, Kageyama worked endlessly on serves.

Once, years ago, he’d watched a home video of an old Seijoh game. The way their team moved as a unit was incredible, almost flawless. He was astounded by the strength of Iwaizumi’s spikes. He scored the final point by spiking a ball _through a blocker’s arms._ It thrilled him to see such intense play.

What really got his heart racing, though, was Oikawa’s incredible jump serve. His form was damn near perfect. The height of his jump, the power in the swing of his arm, the landing that looked like it was in slow motion. It took his breath away.

He imitated it. To the very best of his ability, Tobio imitated his dad’s jump serve. At the end of every practice, his legs would burn, and his palm would sting. It felt so _good_ to do something he knew his parents had done. In their teenage years, many kids transitioned to thinking their parents weren’t cool and had little to offer them, but Tobio had carved his entire style of volleyball after them to follow in their footsteps. There was no one cooler to him than Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime.

Tobio improved. Improved by leaps and bounds in the short period of time between the tournament and high school. He grew taller, and his muscles developed. He felt undeniably _strong_ by the time he was officially graduated from middle school.

He received offers from all around the country for his volleyball skills. People wanted him on their team. They could see his sheer, unadulterated talent, and they wanted it on their team. Offers poured into their mailbox day after day. Tobio looked over every letter, scanning the print, occasionally looking up the school to see where it was located. There was no way he was moving anywhere, good offers or not. He needed to stay with his parents. That was the whole reason he had worked so hard.

Oikawa scowled at the mail on the counter, as if it had harmed him physically. If Tobio were a more observant person, he probably would have taken note of the odd sight of Oikawa treating a pile of mail with complete disdain.

Tobio came up to the counter and leaned over to look at what was _so offensive_ that his dad stood there staring at it.

Three enveloped letters, all addressed to one Kageyama Tobio, printed clearly in black print.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned, glancing over them. They were all from powerhouse schools, Nekoma, Fukurodani, and Shiratorizawa. Kageyama couldn’t imagine being disappointed by any of those options, let alone _disdainful_ of them. Oikawa shoved the letters at him.

“Nothing. I have to send an old friend a message,” he answered, pulling his phone out. “It’ll be a miracle if I haven’t blocked him on every social media site I’m on.” Tobio raised an eyebrow at him.

“These are all really good schools,” Tobio commented, opening the letter from Shiratorizawa first, since it was the closest to their house. If Seijoh didn’t offer him a place on their team, it would be a great alternative. It _was_ a powerhouse school, and hadn’t fallen from their glory. “I don’t want to go to school in the city, though. Shiratorizawa has a great team I could—”

“You can go to whatever school you want to, Tobio. Any school _except_ Shiratorizawa,” Oikawa ordered, deadly serious for no discernable reason.

“Is there something wrong with it?” he asked slowly, baffled by the conversation. “I mean, is there something wrong with the play style, or are their classes not up to par or…?”

“That is a story for when you inevitably meet my old friend,” Oikawa hummed, tapping Kageyama’s nose teasingly.

There was nothing wrong with the letter. No matter how many times Kageyama read over the words, he couldn’t find a single typo or any underlying evil plans. Not a single sinister or ominous comment. Why was he so opposed to this school? Were they hoping to murder him? Injure him so he couldn’t play volleyball anymore?

Maybe Oikawa didn’t like purple. He never quite liked any shade of purple throughout Tobio’s entire life. Kageyama had never known Oikawa to be quite so petty, though. To dislike an _entire school_ because of the color of their uniforms was outrageous. It wasn’t the volleyball team’s fault, either. An old grudge, perhaps?

Tobio didn’t bother opening the letters from Nekoma and Fukurodani. He wasn’t interested in them. Not to mention that he’d heard from a friend of a friend that Nekoma’s new captain was obnoxious. Some loud-mouthed chemistry nerd who was determined to take Nekoma back to their former glory. Kageyama didn’t care for such a sentiment.

A closer school, Karasuno, was doing something similar. Supposedly, the great Coach Ukai who had once lead them to nationals, was returning to coach the team once again. Other than that bit of news, the school was mostly unappealing. They’d fallen even further from glory than Nekoma had. They hadn’t even made it through prelims in the previous years. For Tobio, it would be impractical to go to a school that had so little to offer him. Really, he was mostly waiting on his invitation to Aoba Johsai.

If his invitation to Seijoh never came, though, Shiratorizawa was his next best bet.

He carried the letter back to his room, setting it on his desk with the other school invitations that were viable options. Johzenji, nor Dateko were really schools he wanted to attend. A veto from Dad on Shiratorizawa might force his hand, though.

Days passed, and Kageyama was growing anxious. Maybe they really wouldn’t invite him to their school. Was it because of him passing out at the tournament? That wasn’t _entirely_ his fault. It was stupid hormones! It seemed weird that they wouldn’t offer him an invitation. He was one of the best—if not _the_ best—players on Kitagawa Daiichi. Didn’t Seijoh normally pick up Kitagawa graduates? Had Kindaichi received an invitation?

He paced the living room at 7 am on a Saturday, waiting for the mail to come. Deadlines were fast approaching, and he had to choose _somewhere._ Not making a decision was the worst choice he could make at this point. If he didn’t get an invitation to Seijoh this morning, he was accepting Shiratorizawa’s invitation regardless of what Oikawa might say.

“Tobio, what are you doing?” Iwa questioned, standing in the hall in his pajamas.

“I’m waiting for the mail,” he answered, not looking up from the floor. Iwa yawned and went to make coffee. Both of Tobio’s parents drank coffee in the mornings. Iwa preferred an equal ratio of coffee to creamer, particularly in flavors like hazelnut. Dad, on the other hand, could down scalding black coffee without batting an eye. Tobio himself didn’t have much of a taste for hot drinks aside from hot chocolate.

“Did you order something?” he hummed out, loading grounds into the coffee maker.

“Every school in the prefecture has sent me an invitation except for Aoba Johsai,” he lamented, running a hand through his hair in distress. “Deadlines are coming up fast, and if they don’t send me an invitation today, I’m applying to Shiratorizawa.”

“That’s very responsible,” Iwaizumi commented, sounding amused by Tobio’s explanation. “Have you told Oikawa about this decision?”

“Tragically,” sighed Oikawa. His hair was a mess of curly bedhead, and he had his glasses on. He didn’t like to wear his glasses much, only on days when he was sick, or his eyes were hurting from something or another. In the mornings before he’d gotten ready was really the only time Tobio ever saw him wear them. It was a pleasant change of pace, especially since he put so much care into his appearance on a normal day. “I can’t believe our son is going to be a traitor.”

“A traitor?” The concern in Tobio’s voice was apparent. He was trying to follow in their footsteps and make them proud, not be a _traitor._ Iwaizumi poured two cups of coffee, and handed one to Oikawa, with a complementary smack to the back of the head with it. He yelped, and stared incredulously at his shorter partner.

“We’re supposed to be supportive, not call him a traitor,” Iwa scolded, returning to fixing up his own cup of coffee.

“We’d have to cheer for them. _Cheering._ For _Shiratorizawa._ Can you imagine?” he defended his stance.

“We wouldn’t be cheering for Shiratorizawa, we’d be cheering for our _son._ Completely different,” Iwaizumi argued with a pointed glare. Tobio listened intently to the debate, trying to figure out exactly why he was a traitor. It was clearly unacceptable for him to attend there if it meant he’d be disowned.

“Somewhere, wherever he is, Ushiwaka is completely gleeful and doesn’t know why,” Tooru scowled into his coffee, venturing forward to find some sort of breakfast food.

“I literally cannot believe that you are _still_ holding onto a grudge from _high school_ ,” he sighed, exasperated by the conversation. “You’re an adult, with a kid and a job and everything, and you’re still bitter about a high school rivalry.”

“He was an _asshole_ Iwa-chan. You remember, you hated him too.”

“Yes, but it’s not worth it for me to hold onto a grudge for twenty years!”

“I think that it’s justi—” The sound of loud footsteps and the front door slamming startled him from his refute. Oikawa stared at the door, worried that he might have upset Tobio to the point that he ran out. The sight of the mail truck through the window shut down that idea.

“I really don’t think he actually wants to go to Shiratorizawa,” Hajime said complacently, crossing his arms. Oikawa huffed petulantly, crossing his arms as well, watching Tobio acquire the mail. He was still in his pajamas, and he had no shoes on in addition to there being some odd curls of hair on his head.

Tobio flipped through the envelopes and _ran_ back into the house.

With a dopey smile on his face, he held up the envelope.

“I guess I’m not going to Shiratorizawa after all.”

“Thank _god._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some other notes about this fic:  
> -I really had a hard time deciding what Kageyama would call Iwaizumi and Oikawa. I decided that it was in my best interest to have him not call either of them 'daddy'  
> -I, personally, am a Godzilla nerd. I was really thrilled to write Iwaizumi in this, and wanted to bless you all with my Showa era Godzilla knowledge. It didn't make this part, though.  
> -Honestly, I feel like Oikawa is often the parent who forgets what it was like to be a teenager. He'll overreact initially to things that are normal teenager behavior.  
> -Tobio is _absolutely_ that kid who's disgusted by his parents showing any sort of physical affections  
>  Feel free to share any other kid!Tobio headcanons in the comments, because I love them.  
> Thank y'all for reading! The next part will be up as soon as it's finished.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being parents is hard, it's _really_ hard. Oikawa and Iwaizumi deal, somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New part!! This part spiraled waaaaaaaaayyy out of control, and ended up being a fun mix of fluffy, flirty, iwaoi. I hope y'all enjoy!

Nostalgia wasn’t an emotion Oikawa felt often. The twisted joy and wave of memories that came from walking back into Aoba Johsai was dizzying like few other things in his life had made him feel. He’d spent the majority of three years in this place, studying, socializing, learning, playing volleyball, improving. There was a sense of discomfort that came with being here for someone other than himself. Tooru was a little more knowledgeable now, a little smarter, a little more experienced, a little older. He didn’t need these halls any more, but they made him the person he is.

Unlike Kitagawa, Oikawa remembered these halls more vividly. Remembered where his locker was, which classroom his English class was held in. He wondered if they changed the combinations on the lockers. Probably not.

It was an orientation, nothing special or new. A powerpoint presentation and a boring speaker, with packets handed out to the students. There was nothing to be nervous about, nothing to feel emotional about, but Oikawa couldn’t stop the mixture of discomfort and nostalgia. This place was too familiar to him.

“Why, is that the Grand King?” came a sarcastic and teasing voice nearby. They’d taken maybe two steps into the auditorium where the orientation was being held. He whipped his head around to see who had spoken. Surely it couldn’t be…

“Makki?” Iwaizumi beat him to it, walking up to the other man. They hadn’t seen each other since college, and it felt surreal to see him here again, like no time had passed since high school. “What the hell, man? It’s been forever!”

“I thought you guys moved away! Weren’t you two in Hokkaido for a while?” Makki asked in disbelief. God, they really needed to catch up with him. Tobio barely knew him, and that was unacceptable.

“For a year or so after college, yeah. We moved back down before we adopted Tobio, though,” Oikawa answered, thoughtfully. They might have been in Hokkaido for a little longer than that. The memories of that weird time were a little fuzzy for him. Iwaizumi didn’t correct him, so he must have been at least close to accurate.

“Tobio! The little rascal I haven’t met yet,” Makki exclaimed, turning to the decidedly distracted Tobio. “My dude, are you the next king of Seijoh or what?” He offered a fist bump to him. Tobio ignored the proffered fist bump and scanned him over with his eyes critically.

“You were the wing spiker, right? Number three, back when Dad and Iwa were in high school.” His words were direct as always, not bothering with any niceties. For such an introverted kid, he had a tendency to snap at people more than shying away from them.

“That’s me. What position do you play?” Makki continued, unbothered by the harsh tone of voice that Tobio had taken. Oikawa disliked the fact that Makki could probably tell he’d picked up his attitude from his parents.

“I’m a setter.” Kageyama was proud when he declared he was a setter, and his eyes always shimmered a bit when someone went out of their way to talk to him about volleyball. Watching him play, watching him speak, watching him succeed athletically filled him with pride. He’d never really imagined being able to watch a kid— _his_ kid—grow up to be so strong and bold and happy in so many ways. Here he stood, talking to an old friend of Oikawa’s like an adult with accomplishments and experience, and _he had helped him get there_. He could cry over it.

“Are you two completely sure he isn’t your biological kid? I kinda hoped you’d get a kid that was interested in chess or something,” Hanamaki laughed, gaze shifting to Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

“We’re pretty sure. Though the resemblance is a little uncanny sometimes,” Oikawa said lightly, wrapping an arm around Tobio. “I really don’t think he was all that interested in other sports, anyway.”

“Well he certainly has the height for volleyball. I can’t wait to see him play.” Makki grinned at Tobio. “I’m the volleyball team’s faculty advisor. I do a little coaching too, though.”

“Really? What do you teach?” Always leave it to Iwaizumi to get excited about things like jobs. Oikawa couldn’t complain too much, he was wondering too.

“Ah, I teach first year math. It’s not hard, Tobio. I don’t give out much homework either.”

“That’s good. I hate homework. And math,” Tobio hummed mindlessly.

“He’s, ah, not much of a studier,” Oikawa chuckled. “The orientation starts in two minutes, we should go find seats.”

“Alright! We’ll keep in touch, though. Get together sometime. I’m sure Mattsun would love to see you two again.”

“Sounds great! Keep us posted and we’ll schedule it.”

***

Oikawa stared, he stared long and hard at Iwaizumi, completely baffled by the words that had come from his mouth.

It was a pleasant early autumn night. The sort of evening where the streets were filled with people even as the sun sunk lower towards the horizon. The sort of evening that gleamed under the golden sky, and felt warm and safe. A perfect evening for a date.

Oikawa hadn’t expected anything. Iwaizumi came home and told him that they would be going on a date. There was no romancing, no foreplay to his statement, only a blunt demand. He pulled on his slip-on sneakers without hesitation. It’s not like he had anything better to do than spend an evening out with his partner. Plus, he wouldn’t have to make food. It was an added perk.

They wandered the town, holding hands. They had no plan, only each other. Iwaizumi followed Oikawa’s whims following him into little local restaurants, so they could order a single appetizer, or perhaps a dessert they could share. He had been the one to suggest the date, but he obviously didn’t have any plan. It was pleasant, though, wandering freely, exploring places they might not normally go, being in each other’s presence.

As the evening came to a close, Iwaizumi began fidgeting. Awkward, obvious discomfort. He’d take Oikawa’s hand, then release it, only to take it again in a different grip. His steps became more of a shuffle, slowing his gait considerably. Oikawa grew irritated with his antics, and was going to call him out on the behavior, but before he could even get a single word out—

“Tooru, I want a kid,” he said in a single breath. Iwaizumi maintained steady, serious eye contact, and gnawed on his lower lip, anxiously anticipating the response.

Of all the things that would cause Iwaizumi to be anxious, this was nothing that Oikawa had anticipated.

So, Oikawa stared, stunned by the words that had come from his long-time partner.

He didn’t know what to say, how to respond. Tooru was prepared for everything, for any outcome in any situation. He made it a goal of his to always have a perfect plan for every situation. Yet, he still found himself completely clueless in a situation that required an immediate response.

His eyes finally fell from their eye contact, gaze falling unfocused to the ground, twisting an anxious lhand in his bangs as the shock of information began to settle in on his thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, head snapping back up. “I’m sorry, you just—I’m having a hard time processing—you want _what?_ ”

“I want a kid, Tooru,” he repeated, slower, more determined. “I know it’s a lot, but I’ve been thinking about it for ages, and even if it’s not possible, I needed to tell you at least.” Strain and nerves were audible in his voice, a slight ramble to his tone. Hajime _never_ was nervous, only twice had Oikawa seen him with nerves so severe. The stress radiating off of him twisted Tooru’s stomachs into knots. He needed more time to think this over, to figure out how he felt so he could at least start to determine a response.

“We _can’t,_ Hajime. We’re both alphas, there’s no way we could conceive not without—" he began to speak, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes, sliding his fingers in his hair to twist and tug at it.

“I know we can’t, but there’s always adoption, and we—”

“We’re not married, there’s no way they’d accept—”

“I know someone that works for our local adoption agency, she could put in a good word—”

“We haven’t even talked about this yet—”

“We’re talking about it now and I—”

“I don’t even know if I want a kid!” Oikawa finally concluded in a loud outburst. “This was never part of our plan. When we committed to each other, we knew that we wouldn’t be able to have a kid of our own. That was part of the deal.”

“Plans change, Tooru. We never planned on dating, we _certainly_ never planned on becoming life partners, but here we are. Please don’t shoot this down immediately because it scares you,” Hajime justified, eyebrows furrowed, and his gaze burning into Oikawa’s.

“I need time to think about this,” Oikawa finally sighed.

“I’ll give you all the time in the world.”

***

The thought haunted him all week. A kid? As in, a human child that they would raise and take care of like a sappy domestic married couple. Oikawa didn’t know if he could handle raising a kid, especially if it wasn’t really his kid. There was so much potential for heartbreak. It wasn’t guaranteed that the kid would like him, or that they’d have anything in common. He didn’t want to screw up someone else’s kid. That was wrong on so many levels.

It’s not like he’d _never_ wanted to be a father. He’d given up on the idea ever since he committed to staying with Hajime. They were two alphas that couldn’t conceive, and Oikawa was okay with that.

Hajime expressing this desire now?  It was too much. A betrayal in its own right. He’d finally come to terms with it, and now they were all being dragged up again in some sort of cruel trick that played with his emotions.

Not to mention how far out of his comfort zone the concept was. Kids? Adoption? A family? The thoughts were farfetched.

It could be nice, though. To have a kid of their own. A kid they could watch grow into an adult that they were so very proud of.

Or not proud of. Oh, _god_ so much could go wrong. They could be terrible parents that raised an awful delinquent child. What if their kid got arrested or something?

Was he really willing to risk that? Risk a lifetime a disappointment for some temporary happiness?

Maybe. Maybe he was willing to risk it.

It had been a week since Iwaizumi had first confessed to him, and he decided to take a walk to clear his head. The park was so beautiful in the autumn, with the leaves turning shades of orange and red and yellow, trees looking like fire against a cloudy gray sky.

He watched the families pass by, smiling, laughing, having fun together. The little kids seemed so thrilled to be with their parents, smiling, chattering on about nothing and everything all at the same time.

Did he want that? Could he see himself like that? As a loving parent with a cute kid, being completely committed to his partner.

He tugged at his bottom lip with his fingers, anxiously considering the thought.

Oikawa returned home late, it was long after the sun had set, but Hajime still wasn’t home.

He laid in bed for what felt like hours, pondering over how he would respond. The response that Hajime had waited a week to hear.

When he heard his partner’s quiet footsteps, and felt the other side of the bed sink lower as he laid down, Tooru finally spoke up.

“Hajime, let’s adopt a kid.”

***

Kageyama Tobio, his name was. A tiny little three-year-old with constantly messy black hair and big blue eyes, who puffed out his cheeks and stomped his feet when he was upset. He didn’t talk much, and was incredibly stubborn when he wanted to be. He had lots of opinions about everything, and refused to smile for cameras.

It was a year after they’d officially decided to adopt. Last autumn, they’d put in all of the official paperwork, and now, in the following December, they officially had custody over a—over _their_ —kid.

The adoption agency wasn’t sure of his actual birthday, so they took the day he was adopted, and figured that was good enough. They took their time to make sure that Tobio was fully comfortable in their home, asking him questions about his favorite colors and the foods he liked and disliked. It was strange to have a kid jump into their life the way he did, to jump headlong into the struggles of parenting. They weren’t unhappy about it, though. A little frazzled at times, but not unhappy.

Every day came with a new discovery. A discovery on Tobio’s part—he figured out how the toaster works and that you should _not_ stick your fingers in it. Or a discovery on Oikawa’s part—Tobio didn’t enjoy any sort of commentary on the lego structures he created, it might frustrate him to the point of quitting. Or a discovery on Iwaizumi’s part—Tobio was very fond of yogurt, especially in berry flavors, though he always seemed to get it all over his face and shirt.

Life was constantly busy. Between work and Tobio, their schedules were packed. It was worth the work, worth the effort to spend time with him. Tooru slept very well during the nights, appreciative of all the rest he could get.

He was less resistant to being adopted than Hajime and Tooru anticipated. At first, he was upset by the change, but after a month or so, he had settled into their family life structure and was thrilled by the attention given to him. On top of that, he wasn’t hesitant at all to refer to Tooru and Hajime by Dad and Iwa (names decided on long before he was officially adopted).

Tobio didn’t enjoy playing with other little kids, he’d get wrapped up in watching the other kids instead of playing with them. He did enjoy sports, thoroughly enjoying games where the rules were properly outlined, and he could work to win. That particular part of Tobio’s personality always greatly amused Hajime. For being completely unrelated by genetics, Tobio was awfully similar to them at times, imitating the words they’d say or the expressions they’d make.

He asked a lot of questions, too. He’d ask about nature, and why the sky was blue and why leaves were green. He’d also ask what things said, pointing at signs they’d drive by and asking what they meant. He’d learn the titles of books that he liked, and the proper names of the snacks he enjoyed. It was cute, albeit exhausting at times.

Oikawa had never planned on being a parent, he had never planned on adopting a kid.

Now, though, he couldn't imagine not having a kid. Funny how life worked out like that.

***

Time seemed to fly by so fast. Before they knew it, Tobio had grown up. Preschool felt like a huge step, Kindergarten was an even bigger one. Tooru hadn’t anticipated crying when sending him off to school for the first time. He was watching his baby grow up right before his eyes and he was so _emotional._

Tobio, they discovered, didn’t make a whole lot of friends at school. He could barely remember the names of his classmates. He did love learning how to read, however. He was thrilled when he could finally sound out the letters on street signs for himself, and looked so proud when he managed to read an entire page of one of the books he’d brought home from school.

It grew more and more apparent with time that Tobio had an incredible affinity for athletics. He did fantastically in gym class, and was very enthusiastic in explaining the games that they had played, and just how well he’d performed at them.

By second grade, Tobio had discovered a wonderful sport called volleyball.

He’d come home glowing with joy, enthusiastically explaining every excruciating detail of gym class that day.

“We played a new game in gym class today. It’s called volleyball and it was _really_ fun. They had this net up and we got to jump over it, and I was really good because I’m tall and that means I’m good at it. The teacher would toss the ball to us and we got to _slam_ it into the floor and _tomorrow_ we get to play it again and we’re going to play on teams and everything and I’m totally going to win,” he rambled on while they sat at the dinner table. The quick eye contact Tooru and Hajime made was mostly to prevent both of them from laughing. They hadn’t even told him they’d played volleyball, and somehow, they ended up with a volleyball freak as a kid.

Sometimes Tooru wondered if he was actually adopted.

“You know, Iwa and I used to play volleyball when we were younger,” Tooru hummed thoughtfully. Tobio looked so severely taken back by the statement that it was almost insulting.

“No way! Volleyball is so cool, though!” he cried out.

Hajime poorly stifled his laughter and watched Oikawa flounder for a response to the nearly offensive reply.

“We did! We were really good too,” he answered, managing to disguise any offense he had taken at the comment. “If, and only if, you eat all of the vegetables on your plate, we’ll show you videos of our old games.”

Tobio scowled, frowning at his plate.

“Fine. It’s a deal.”

***

By the time ten rolled around, Tooru and Hajime were practically experts at the whole parenting thing.

Mostly.

Actually, not at all.

Parenting is one of those things that never stays the same. As soon as you think you have it all figured it out, something changes, and you have to start all over again. The challenges of a three-year-old are vastly different from the challenges of a ten-year-old.

Over and over again, they felt so inferior and inexperienced. Nothing they ever did was perfect, and decisions were constantly doubted. Was this really the best way to punish him? Were they praising him enough? Should they be encouraging him to socialize more? He seemed happy enough not having many friends, was that okay?

It was comforting to know that they weren’t the only ones struggling. Parents at parent-teacher conferences seemed just as distressed and confused as they were.

“Be thankful you don’t have teenagers!” parents would say again and again, like their ten-year-old wouldn’t soon be a teenager who faced the struggles of hormones and responsibilities and insecurities that everyone faced during those years.

Even TV parents seemed to struggle with their children. Though the fictional scenarios the families were placed in were a little different, it didn’t change the fact that parenting was _hard,_ and everyone knew.

Oikawa had taken up watching a drama TV show in his free time. It was on Netflix, easily accessible and something to pass the time while he was folding laundry or relaxing at home.

One of the girls in the show had been adopted as a teenager, and was completely obsessed with finding her biological parents. She wanted justification for why she was how she was, apparently. Ever since the first season she’d had this obsession.

It was a TV show, nothing that he should get too emotionally involved with, but he couldn’t help thinking over that character again and again.

Did Tobio feel that way? Did he ever want to meet his real parents instead of having to deal with his adopted ones? Did he really view them as parents?

He expressed his thoughts to Hajime, growing more and more concerned as he voiced them. So many worries came to mind, so much insecurity and inferiority.

“Dumbass,” Hajime scowled, crossing his arms. “Do you really think he feels that way? Tobio never even knew his biological parents.”

“So? Wouldn’t you want to meet your real parents? I would.”

“ _We_ are his real parents, Shittykawa. We’ve known him longer than his biological parents ever did. We’re the ones who raised him, who brought him to this point. I won’t have you thinking otherwise.”

“Yeah, but what if—” Hajime put a hand over Tooru’s mouth.

“No more of that bullshit. I won’t have it,” he insisted. “If you’re really concerned, then you can go and ask him yourself.”

“Fine.”

Days passed, and Oikawa was still concerned. He went back and forth on the idea. He and Hajime were Tobio’s real parents, and they shouldn’t be concerned about inferiority. Or, Tobio’s biological parents were Tobio’s real parents and they should help him find them, so he could feel more complete and satisfied in his life.

It was driving him mad. Speaking to Hajime about it seemed completely fruitless, so he either had to ask Tobio about it, or dispel the thought on his own.

It really didn’t seem like the thought was going to go away now.

Volleyball practice had run late. It was going to be dark by the time Tobio arrived home. Like the concerned parent he was, Tooru stayed in the living room watching the fifth Star Wars movie on low volume, barely staving off sleep. Hajime had gone to bed long before, but Tooru was determined to be awake when Tobio came through the front door.

They’d finally made it to Cloud City when the front door clattered open.

“I’m home!” Tobio stage whispered as he slid his shoes off, creeping quietly into the living room to see if anyone was awake.

“Hey! Welcome home,” Tooru mumbled tiredly, offering a barely visible smile in the dim lighting of the room.

“I didn’t really expect anyone to be awake.” Tobio settled down on the couch beside him, sitting crisscross.

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

They watched the movie in silence, the familiar scenes and lines playing out before them. They’d both seen it a million times, but a million and one certainly couldn’t hurt.

It felt oddly appropriate to ask Tobio about his parents as Luke screamed in anguish after Darth Vader revealed their familial ties.

“Do you ever want to meet your real parents, Tobio?” he asked quietly, sincerely. Tobio turned to make eye contact with him, cocking his head to the side.

“My real—you mean my _biological_ parents?” he scoffed. “ _You’re_ my real parents. Not some losers who decided they were too good for a two-year-old.”

Tooru’s heart swelled with joy. He shouldn’t have even worried in the first place.

God, what did he do to deserve such a fantastic kid in his life?

He wrapped his arms around him in a crushing hug, completely ignoring the smaller boy’s protests, kicking at him and pushing at him.

“Tobio, you’re so _adorable_!” he raved, kissing the top of his head.

“Dad, _gross,_ ” he gagged, pushing and kicking and shoving to try and get him away. “Get off!”

“Nope! You’ll have to fall asleep like this.”

“ _Dad_ ,” he whined petulantly.

They did fall asleep eventually. They rested, snoring on the couch snuggled together.

Hajime didn’t tell them he snapped a picture in the morning.

***

It was rare for Hajime and Tooru to get a lot of alone time. Between work, Tobio, and housework, they never had any time for themselves.

Recently, however, Tobio had started attending these magical things called _training camps_ meaning Tooru and Hajime could get a weekend, or maybe even an _entire week_ child free. It was incredible. They would go on dates and not worry about having a kid at home, or with them. They both loved Tobio, and wouldn’t trade him for anything, but it was fantastic to have a little time off.

Not to mention, they had time for _other_ things too.

They were staying in, that night. Cooking something simple for dinner, watching stupid, mockable movies on Netflix.

Tooru should have been expecting Iwaizumi insistently tugging him closer by his belt loops.

He settled his chin on Tooru’s shoulder, their hips solidly pressed together, his hands curling around his hips possessively.

“Do you know,” he started gruffly into Tooru’s ear, breath moving the soft curled strands of hair that surrounded it, “how _damn long_ it’s been since we’ve had a night alone together?”

“I don’t know,” Tooru sighed out, still startled by Hajime’s incredible ability to both startle him and turn him on in five seconds flat. During high school, he was absolutely convinced that it was a superpower of some sort. Hajime’s seduction was sudden and intense, a stark contrast to Tooru’s own slow, calculated style. “Are you going to show me?”

“Hell yeah, I am,” he hummed, biting at the shell of his ear to punctuate his words. Tooru took a deep breath. As tempting as a rushed quickie in the kitchen was, taking the time for deeply intimate and passionate sex that took them all night seemed a lot more gratifying.

“No kid, no work in the morning. Hajime, I’m yours.”

Tooru sighed into the kiss. Having the time to kiss deeply, with spit and tongues and fervor, was a sensation that he’d nearly forgotten in the previous weeks. And good _lord_ was it fantastic. The caress of panting breaths, the heat of Hajime’s mouth pressed against his own. How had he abstained from such pleasure for so long? No one should deprive themselves of such a sensation.

Hajime’s strong, broad palms slid beneath his shirt, the bumps calluses and old scars running over Tooru’s abdomen like a long-constructed tease that he still wasn’t used to after years of being with him. It still drove him mad, sending shivers up and down his spine. He twisted his fingers in Iwaizumi’s hair, guiding him upwards so the kiss could deepen. Even after all this time, Oikawa was still taller than him.

One of Hajime’s hand slid low, gripping the back of Tooru’s thigh, right beneath his ass. It was a fantastic tease, one that made Tooru want to move this along a little faster if he could.

He let one of his hands move, moving to Hajime’s hip to feel at his hipbone and tug his loose sweatpants a _little_ further down. He hooked his finger in the waistband of his boxers and then pulled them away, the elastic snapping against his skin with a satisfying noise.

It had the desired effect. Hajime’s hand moved to his ass, giving a scolding squeeze. He always knew what Tooru was up to. There were no tricks left for him to pull that Hajime wouldn’t see from a mile away.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to indulge them, though.

He bit at his partner’s neck, leaving a string of hickeys along his collarbone. It was the only place that was mostly invisible if Tooru wore a normal shirt. They’d had to seriously discuss their hickey placements after they got real jobs. Employers don’t really like employees who constantly look like sex on legs. It was disappointing, really.

Hajime _finally_ decided they were far enough along to start removing clothes and Tooru couldn’t be more thankful. He pulled his own shirt over his head with utter grace, kiss bruised lips and finger ruffled hair making him Adonis standing in their dull kitchen.

He was pulling Tooru’s shirt off when it happened.

The last thing they wanted from their perfect evening alone, where they fully planned on having a full evening of food, sex, and movies.

Tooru’s phone rang.

Tooru, in a panic, immediately went to decline the call. It could wait. It could _absolutely_ wait. Nothing was interrupting his perfect evening.

Hajime caught his wrist, and pulled the phone out of his back pocket.

“It’s Tobio,” Hajime stated plainly. The _last_ thing Tooru wanted to be talking about when Hajime looked so sexy was their kid. Why did the universe hate him?

“Why did we raise him to be so responsible?” he groaned, tugging the phone back and answering the call.

 _“Sorry for calling late! We were really busy training today,”_ Tobio apologized over the speaker. Tooru rubbed at his temples as he mentally prepared a loving-sounding response.

“It’s fine, sweetheart. We weren’t doing anything important tonight,” Hajime beat Tooru to it. _Except,_ he didn’t seem to be faking it. That sexy bastard. Oikawa glared at him. They certainly _were_ doing something important!

_“That sounds nice. We worked really hard all day today.”_

“Really?”

_“Yeah! We played, like, six different practice matches. I’m really tired because of it.”_

The conversation droned on much longer than Tooru would have liked. Talking about his son’s volleyball practice? Serious boner killer. 0/10 would not recommend having sex interrupted by a kid.

There was a silver lining, however. As soon as Tobio hung up, yawning as he confessed he hadn’t slept well the night before, Hajime pulled him in once again.

“Now. Where were we?”

***

Of all the things that Tobio expected when he walked into the house, the last thing he expected was two complete strangers standing in the kitchen.

Two people, not that much taller than himself, their scents unfamiliar and unpleasant to Tobio’s nose. They were together, that much was obvious from the way they smelled, but Tobio wasn’t sure he wanted to speak with them to clarify who they were and just why they were so casually drinking wine in his kitchen.

Were they robbers? They were shitty robbers, if that.

He slammed the door behind him, slipping his shoes off and carrying his bag towards his room. They were probably someone that Dad and Iwa had invited over without telling him. It was best to ignore them, he’d never meet them again anyway.

“Hey! Welcome back Tobes,” came a disgustingly familiar voice. “Your daddies will be back soon.” Kageyama whipped around. The _spiker._ No, more importantly, his _math teacher._ He froze in place. His _math teacher,_ in _his house, drinking wine, with his husband._

It sounded like some awful nightmare that his mind would concoct while he was sick.

“I’m going to throw myself off a cliff,” he said under his breath. This meant he not only had to socialize with them, it meant he had to be _pleasant._ It was a cruel trick. He needed to demand an explanation from his parents as soon as possible. He turned around to face the men, putting on a neutral expression.

“Damn, you didn’t lie. He might not be their biological kid, but he’s really close,” the taller, dark haired man that Tobio hadn’t met remarked. He could only assume that he also knew Dad and Iwa from high school. He wracked his brain trying to remember who he was and what position he used to play.

“He’s a setter too, you know,” Makki added, with a grin. “I’m pretty sure they hand picked him.”

“That is kind of how adoption works.” Tobio crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

“Did you want to call us dumbass while you’re at it to sound a little more like Iwa-chan?” the dark haired one laughed. Tobio rolled his eyes and walked back to his room. It wasn’t worth it to continue this conversation. He felt ridiculous already. God, why were his dads even friends with them?

“I’m leaving,” he said with a roll of his eyes, going back to his room. He’d put up with them as soon as Dad and Iwa were home. He wouldn’t put up with them without a social buffer.

He could still hear them as he changed from his volleyball uniform into more casual clothes. One of Iwa’s old t-shirts and comfy jeans should be fine, right? These were casual friends he didn’t need to impress. A Godzilla t-shirt he wasn’t all that fond of and jeans was the best they were getting.

If he’d done laundry recently he might have put on something nicer, but he was beyond caring.

“I’m shocked they didn’t get some crazy rebellious kid. I feel like that would have been appropriate karma,” the taller one said.

“At least a kid who wears eyeliner or something.”

“Yeah exactly.”

Eyeliner? Really? He really wasn’t interested in that sort of thing. He was worried he’d stab himself in the eye with the makeup. That could probably make him blind. Not to mention, his lashes were dark naturally. Why would he need to draw _more_ attention to his eyes?

Frankly, it was a little rude of them to assume that Tobio would be a nightmare.  Seriously, what were his parents like in high school for them to wish such misfortune on them? Surely Tobio wasn’t that bad.

At least he hoped not.

In the same situation, Kunimi and Kindaichi would probably wish a hellspawn of a child on him as well.

Maybe he _was_ that bad.

He hoped his kid was more like his future partner than like him. That was probably a good solution.

“So sorry we’re late!” Dad’s voice rang out as loud as the slamming of the door behind him.

“It’s no problem, my dudes. Tobes was very accommodating,” Makki hummed, and Tobio rolled his eyes.

“I was _not!”_ Tobio shouted from his room, stomping down the hall in his casual clothing. He petulantly scowled as soon as he entered the kitchen. Why hadn’t they told him they were having company over? If they had, he would have had time to prepare himself to deal with more people.

“You weren’t accommodating?” Iwa asked, clearly curious as to why Tobio was denying something positive that was said about him.

“Not at all,” he affirmed, now moving to get a glass of water. “I thought they were really shitty robbers.”

“Language,” Oikawa sighed, setting the pizza they had gone to pick up on the counters. That was the only perk to having people over in Tobio’s eyes, the good food. While eating, you didn’t have to talk. Plus, it was food. It was two for two right there.

“You scold your kid for language? Really, Shittykawa?” the dark-haired man—who Tobio _still_ didn’t know the name of—asked. Tobio had heard Iwa use the nickname for Dad before, but didn’t know that it was one that went all the way back to their high school days. Maybe he should have known, they had known each other their entire lives.

“Mattsun, not _everyone_ has to be vulgar,” Dad scoffed, taking the first slice of pizza from a box, and gesturing for everyone else to do the same. There was no ceremony to the interactions they had, a sign of casual friendship that Tobio so rarely saw.

As the atmosphere relaxed, so did Tobio. There was no social pressure if everyone else was relaxed and willing to talk. His tongue loosened, and his muscles were no longer tense. Even though he’d met these people only a short time ago, he was feeling more at ease with them already.

They moved to the living room after a while, Tobio sitting on the floor, watching, listening, occasionally commenting on something. The four old friends were reminiscing and sharing their lives now, discussing jobs, and where they’d been. Nothing Tobio could participate in too much, but he was thankful for the information he gained from listening.

“I can’t believe Tobio goes to Seijoh. Does he even know all the history that’s in those gyms?” the now identified Mattsun commented, leaning back into the couch.

“We’ve showed him recordings of our games from—” Iwa was abruptly cut off by Makki, who unlike his partner, bolted upright.

“No, no. The _history._ A lot of things happened against those lockers,” Makki insinuated, a shit-eating grin on his face. Oikawa choked on his drink, coughing loudly.

“The dark blue set of lockers is where all the action happened. I’m still traumatized from the moans.” Mattsun paused to twist his face into one mocking arousal. “ _Ah! Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan, more! Faster!”_

Dad buried his face in his hands, and Iwa rubbing his temples. Tobio stared with wide eyes. The dark blue lockers? The ones in the back of the locker room that were barely lit and hadn’t been repainted since the school opened?

“I _so_ do not sound like that,” Dad insisted, waving a finger at Mattsun. This only elicited laughter from Makki and Mattsun.

“I mean, maybe a _little_.” Iwa shrugged, preparing himself for the smack on the shoulder that came.

“ _Traitor_ ,” Oikawa hissed, though no disgust was in his voice. He huffed, and continued, “It’s not like you two were any better. Whenever Mattsun had a rut, the entire locker room would _reek._ It was gross.”

“Oh, come on! It was only a day or two,” Makki complained. “It wasn’t as bad as when the two of you would go into rut. It was _twice_ as bad.” Mattsun tugged on Makki’s shoulder.

“Dude, dude you remember when all the first years brought nose plugs? That was the _best_ day,” he excitedly recalled, smiling.

“That was _so embarrassing,_ ” Oikawa groaned. Iwaizumi laughed, covering his mouth.

***

At one time in his life, Iwaizumi was disgusted by the scent of Oikawa’s rut. He smelled to Iwaizumi like burning caramel, like when a baked good was left in the oven too long and seemed absolutely unappetizing. On the list of appealing scents, Oikawa’s was at the bottom of the list.

Inevitably, at least twice a semester, Oikawa would walk with him to school smelling gross and unappealing. Other people didn’t seem to be as bothered, though the rest of the team would tease and pester him about it. Iwaizumi tried to block out any memories of squealing fangirls flocking to Oikawa when his pheromones would spread like that. They were indecent at times, and it made Tooru uncomfortable in ways that he refused to admit to when he was in high school.

There was a change at some point. Iwaizumi tried to pick out an exact point in time over and over again, but he couldn’t. There was only a conglomeration of events that led to Oikawa’s scent becoming entirely _too_ appealing instead of like a burnt baked good.

He thinks it started when Oikawa sobbed into his shoulder in their second year after _another_ loss to Shiratorizawa. Iwaizumi watched him closely after the final point was scored. He held his chin high, and kept his shoulders back, maintaining a sense of pride, but there were still tears in his eyes, and the tip of his red was nose from his occasional sniffles.

He didn’t cry, not while on the court, he never did. His pride was too great for that. Even in the locker rooms when his hands trembled, and he had to bite his lip to keep down sobs, he didn’t cry. Iwaizumi watched him closely, ready to tug him away from the crowds if he lost it.

Iwaizumi watched, unsure of what to do when Tooru finally crumbled. The façade fell apart so quickly, his eyes squeezing shut when he finally let out the first sob. It sounded like it’d been ripped from the very pit of his soul, the sadness, frustration, and insecurity all bubbling to the surface and overflowing. He’d known Oikawa his entire life, but had never seen him this distressed.

He stood and watched. He watched as Oikawa clenched his hands into fists, watched as he hung his head, he watched as his shoulders slumped and shook with his sobs, watched as tears fell from his eyes and dripped off his chin and the tip of his nose, watched as his steadfast confidence and pride came crashing down in mere moments.

It was an impulsive decision, tugging Tooru forward and wrapping his arms around him. Tooru didn’t resist, slumping into his arms without a second thought, maybe even crying a little harder as it happened. The choked sobs sounded painful even muffled against Hajime’s shoulders.

Hajime doesn’t remember how long they stayed like that, doesn’t remember how long it took for Tooru’s tears to give way to slowing breaths and a shaky smile. He does remember wishing he could do more. He remembers the ache in his heart urging him to comfort and encourage and do _more_ for Tooru.

He spent the night at Tooru’s house that evening; it was an after-tournament tradition they’d kept for years. They didn’t talk about the events of the day, didn’t mention the game at all. Iwaizumi couldn’t sleep until Tooru had fallen asleep. He was worried about him, worried that this would be a turning point he couldn’t bounce back from. Hajime almost reached out to him. He almost pulled him close again, but didn’t.

He wished he had.

The next time Tooru’s rut came, he no longer smelled like burnt caramel, but more like fresh caramel popcorn. The caramel popcorn his mom would always make for Hajime at Christmastime. His entire scent had seemed to change so quickly that when he first greeted Hajime, he thought the smell was something else. A new cologne, maybe?

It wasn’t, though. The scent clung to him tightly and lingered in the air after him like a cologne wouldn’t. Hajime wanted to breathe in the scent for as long as he could. He wanted to let it sink into him and stay with him constantly.

He walked especially close to Oikawa that day, letting the sweet, sugary, and salty scent seep into his senses. He wasn’t sure Tooru even noticed how clingy he was that day.

Hajime’s mother noticed he scent when he came home, and questioned him immediately about it, expressing her distaste for the scent.

“Mom, it’s just Tooru. It’s nothing new.” He had brushed it off at the time. Really, it was nothing new. He didn’t have to worry about smelling like Tooru. They were together all the time, it was inevitable.

He only realized it _wasn’t_ inevitable the next time he went into a rut. Unlike Tooru, Hajime _did_ notice when Tooru wouldn’t stop touching him. It was little things at first, insignificant things. A hand on his shoulder, making sure their hands touched when Hajime lent him a pencil in class, knees brushing when they sat next to each other. At one point, Oikawa dropped his head onto Hajime’s shoulder for seemingly no reason.

Again, Hajime brushed it off. It’s just Tooru, right? He was weird sometimes.

This mindset stuck with him all the way up to when Tooru dragged him to the locker rooms, claiming he had something to show Hajime.

He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on when he was backed into the dark blue set of lockers.

“ _You_ have smelled _fantastic_ all day long and I am sick of it,” Tooru accused, bringing his face so close to Tobio’s that their noses almost brushed.

“Of course, I have I’m—” Tooru pressed their lips together. It wasn’t abrupt, nor a hard pressure against him. It was gradual movement. Soft at first, then firmer and more solid. Oikawa was waiting for him to push him away, waiting for him to reject his advances.

Except Hajime couldn’t turn him down. Not when the smell of caramel dripped off of him, and Hajime couldn’t get enough of it. He wouldn’t push Tooru away, but he’d press harder against him, reassuring him in a way he’d never anticipated.

Hajime let his eyes slip shut, and he tilted his head to slot his lips firmly against Tooru’s. He was gripped with a need to twist his fingers in that stupid, perfectly styled mess of curly hair. He tugged at it, running his fingers through the smooth softness of it again and again.

“Tooru, we have to get back to practice,” Iwaizumi mumbled against his lips, eyes struggling to stay open for longer than a couple of seconds.

“No,” he whined, pressing in for another kiss again.

“ _Tooru_ ,” he insisted, actually pulling back. “This isn’t right. We can’t be doing this here during practice.” Oikawa stepped closer, kissing Iwaizumi again.

“Spoil sport.” _Kiss._

“Dumbass.” _Hands._

“Cock blocker.” _Tongue._

“Pervert.” _Touch._

They didn’t practice with the team at all that day.

***

“God, the two of you were horny brats back in those days,” Makki laughed, recalling the memories, and intently listening to every smutty story that was shared among them. “I’m pretty sure that Seijoh’s locker room has seen more action than the average love hotel.”

Tobio buried his face in his hands, trying to drown out any further stories. It was too early for him to go to bed to escape this conversation.

The fact of the matter is, no one, _literally no one,_ wants to hear about their parents banging.

“They still haven’t repainted those lockers,” Tobio said aloud in horror.

All four of the adults burst into laughter.

“I’m not kidding!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to briefly run over how scents are in this fic, because I really liked them and I visited bath and body works today.
> 
> Scents are kinda weird and dynamic in this story. People's scents change over time, and your relationship with a person changes your perception of the scent. The more time you spend with a person, the more the scents mingle.  
> Oikawa smells like caramel and brown sugar.  
> Iwaizumi smells like candied ginger.  
> Kageyama smells like dark roast coffee.  
> Together they smell like a caramel macchiato.  
> Hinata smells like an orange creamsicle.  
> Makki smells like rum.  
> Mattsun smells like hot chocolate (with whipped cream).
> 
> thank u thank u for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA. so. this is actually going to be 4 parts.  
> this chapter got really out of hand and is nearly 10,000 words long.  
> kagehina is very soft and awkward.  
> i hope y'all enjoy

Kageyama’s first tournament in high school, playing for Aoba Johsai, was unusual at best. He was playing in the game.

Well, sort of playing. Their captain—Yahaba Shigeru—was a setter himself, and thus wasn’t going to let some first-year punk take the position away from him. It was obvious that Kageyama was a more qualified setter than their captain, but no one seemed to care. For the time being, he was stuck as a pinch server and occasional setter for games that weren’t as important. He _kindly_ informed the captain that this decision was bullshit and that he should be put into the game as a setter and not a pinch server. His comments only served to temporarily bench him.

Frustratingly, it also gave Kunimi and Kindaichi an easy sensitive point to make fun of.

“Oh, has someone finally noticed how highly Kageyama thinks of himself?” Kindaichi sneered as he passed Tobio in the hall. Tobio was innocently getting water for some of his teammates, and _this_ is the response he gets?

“He has the ego of a king, that’s for sure,” Kunimi replied overdramatically. They had probably rehearsed the words beforehand. Kageyama would expect nothing less from petty middle school bullies.

“I may have the ego of a king, but at least I can score points,” Tobio huffed with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t come crying to me when your _fabulous captain_ fails to take you to Nationals.” He didn’t turn to face them, didn’t even turn off the water fountain. The satisfying squeak of their shoes stopping on the polished tile floors rang through Tobio’s ears like the sound of victory. God, couldn’t they get over middle school grudges? How did they even get into this school?

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” Kindaichi jabbed, resorting to meaningless insults. “I wish you’d gone to some other school where we could beat your team again and again. You’re pathetic. A tiny omega thinking you’re so much better than the rest of us.” Kageyama could feel Kindaichi’s presence behind him, overwhelming him.

In the final year of middle school, the majority of Tobio’s grade had presented. He was thoroughly convinced the universe was trying to spite him when Kindaichi presented as an alpha. He didn’t deserve that much power over Tobio. He _certainly_ didn’t deserve to compel Kageyama with the overwhelming scent of his hormones. No matter how much his body screamed for him to it go and _listen to the alpha,_ Tobio refused to. He wouldn’t mindlessly submit to some bully because his hormones told him to.

He respectfully flipped off his hormones, and turned on his heel so he was eye to eye with Kindaichi.

Without another thought, Kageyama raised his fist, and _swung._

***

Tobio bounced his leg impatiently while he sat in the chair outside the principal’s office. The funny thing about impulsive decisions, is that your brain doesn’t process the consequences of your actions before you act. Meaning, it completely slipped his mind that punching a student could get him suspended from school and club activities. To be fair, he’d been provoked, _and_ Seijoh had a strict no-bullying policy. The advantage was his in this situation. He’d be surprised if he received punishment more than a scolding and a detention.

Anxiety from visiting the principal’s office was still present regardless. He knew that his parents had been called. Dad and Iwa now knew that he’d punched a kid at school. They wouldn’t know the context, though. Kindaichi was bullying him, even mocked him for being an omega. That doesn’t—shouldn’t fly at this school or in their home. A family that was made up of two alpha parents wouldn’t tolerate any gender or sexual class bias.

Oikawa came rushing into the office looking a little put out. He seemed disorganized, and frankly, a little upset. Kageyama bit back a sigh. Attitude was the last thing that this situation needed.

“You _punched_ someone?” he hissed a whisper as he settled into the chair beside Tobio, looking equal parts pissed off and fascinated. That was probably good, knowing he wasn’t completely angry at Tobio. There was at least a little room for sympathy.

“He was being an asshole,” Kageyama mumbled, crossing his arms.

“You can’t punch people over volleyball, Tobio. No matter how much of an asshole they’re being,” Dad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It wasn’t over volleyball! He was making fun of me for being an omega,” Tobio protested seriously.

“He was _what?_ ” Oikawa questioned incredulously, looking immediately irritated. There was a long, _long_ pause before he spoke up again. “Don’t _ever_ tell Iwa that I said this, but that asshole deserved the punch.” His posture mimicked Tobio’s now, slouching in his chair with his arms crossed.

“Exactly my point.”

“Oikawa-san, in my office, please,” the principal requested at the door, Kindaichi and his mother glaring at them as they exited the office.

The tension they’d felt in the waiting room tripled when they entered the office. The principal’s scolding gaze fell on Tobio, a silent discipline for him.

“Tobio, I hear from Kindaichi and Kunimi that you punched Kindaichi,” the principal started, settling into his office chair and folding his hands in his lap. The movement irked him for a reason he couldn’t identify.

“Sir, it’s true, but in my defense, I was provoked,” Tobio explained calmly, suppressing the rage that jumped into his throat. The principal looked surprised momentarily, eyes widening.

“That isn’t what they said to me. Kunimi and Kindaichi both explained that they had calmly been having a conversation and you snapped at them,” the principal disputed.

“It’s not true. Kindaichi had been using some rude nicknames from middle school, and then used my omega status against me by calling me a pathetic and tiny omega,” Tobio elaborated. He could feel Dad fuming in the seat beside him.

“And you responded to such light teasing by punching him?” the principal questioned, stunned. “I hardly think that was an appropriate reaction in the circumstances.”

“ _Light_ —” Oikawa started sounding livid. “Sir, I mean no disrespect, but bullying anyone because of their sexual class is completely inappropriate and a violation of the school’s no-bullying policy.”

“Oikawa-san, it’s always wonderful to have an alumnus back in the school, but this is completely ridiculous. He assaulted a student over a little bit of teasing. Bullying policy or not, that’s inappropriate,” he scoffed lightly. “Not to mention, omegas aren’t supposed to oppose alphas in such a way. Perhaps your own, ah, _unconventional_ parenting style has skewed your child’s sense of what is and is not appropriate.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Dad snapped at the principal. It was now _blatantly_ apparent to Kageyama that the principal was an alpha, and one who thought that omegas should ‘know their place.’ Forget Kindaichi, this guy was the real asshole.

“We’ll let Tobio off easy this time. A week-long suspension from club activities, and that’s all. Thank you for taking the time to come in today.”

“Of course.” Oikawa smiled bitterly, tugging Tobio out of his chair and out of the office, stomping out of the school, with a scowl on his face.

The grip on his wrist became painful somewhere in between exiting to school and reaching the car. He didn’t complain, though. Dad was _pissed._ Angrier than he’d seen him in years, and Tobio wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

When the car doors finally slammed shut, Tooru finally took a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly.

“Tobio, I’m going to say something really awful about your principal right now that you can never repeat to anyone outside of our family, alright?” he prefaced.

“Okay.”

“Fuck him,” Oikawa spat. “He’s an asshole and a classist and is obviously prejudiced and you’re being suspended from volleyball for a week because your parents are in a so-called ‘unconventional’ relationship.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“ _Fuck_ him,” Oikawa repeated. He turned to Tobio genuinely, with sincerity burning in his eyes. “Date an omega for me, won’t you? Give that asshole, and _everyone_ like him a middle finger for me.”

“I’ll try.”

***

He didn’t intentionally follow his nose when he arrived at the tournament. It’s just—Kageyama is an omega, alright? And volleyball tournaments tend to be full of asshole alphas who thought they were better than him because of that. So, yes, it’s true, he tended to flock towards teams with more omegas and betas than teams full of only alphas. He wasn’t a fan of being sexually harassed.

Except, there was an odd scent lingering in the air, the smell so much more powerful than a typical scent. It was intense, overpowering, and so overtly, obnoxiously _sexual._

An omega was in heat. Somewhere, in this gym, there was a person surrounded by alphas suffering from an intense fever, by fatigue and exhaustion and pain that they couldn’t avoid. Tobio didn’t know them, but his heart went out to them.  He prayed that no one tried to harass or force them into anything. He’d heard stories of omegas who suddenly went into heat being sexually assaulted by alphas. A high school volleyball tournament should be on TV because of the sport, not because a high schooler was raped. That was unacceptable.

It was these thoughts, completely mindless ones, that lead Tobio to follow his nose blindly down the corridor to find the suffering omega.

Thank god there didn’t seem to be any alpha scents around. That meant that no one had given them trouble.

Cowering in the corner, there was the omega, looking petrified up at Tobio, golden brown eyes shining with tears.

“You’re…” Tobio’s voice left him as he stared at him.

The omega from that tournament he’d passed out at over a year ago. The one with the sugary sweet citrus scent that had soothed Kageyama so much when his heat had made his head throb and spin with pain. Maybe his scent could soothe him in return. Would that be thanks enough?

“Don’t touch me,” Yukigaoka’s former captain hissed, putting his arms up in front of his face in defense. Tobio could have been offended, a younger him might have been. Knowing how vulnerable that position felt, though, he took a small step back and put his arms up defensively.

“I’m an omega too,” he offered by way of explanation. “I didn’t want anyone to assault you.” He hoped he was emitting the proper scents. Tobio didn’t quite have control over those yet, he was trying to comfort the smaller omega by advertising his own omega-ness.

Or something like that.

“There’s no way,” the redhead scoffed, eyes scanning him up and down. “You’re too tall to be an omega.” Tobio crossed his arms in irritation, glaring at him.

 _Too tall? Seriously?_ he snarked mentally. _Well he’s too short to be a volleyball player, so there._

“Why the hell would I lie about being an omega? I’m trying to _help_ you, not harass you,” Kageyama hissed, leaning down so his face was closer with the other boy’s.

 _“_ Well unless you have any suppressants with you, you won’t be of much help.”

It was true. Tobio didn’t have any medication, or anything practical that could help him in that way.

 _Was_ there anything he could practically do? When he was in heat, the only thing that had helped him was when Dad…

Would that work with this random stranger?

No, no. It couldn’t possibly work. That only worked because it was family, and it was _Dad._ He couldn’t go around snuggling with random strangers telling them that it would help them through heat.

Then again, he seemed to be enduring a lot of pain and distress. With the way his hands tugged insistently at wild red curls, and how his legs would shake if he shifted even a little.

Tobio really just wanted to help him. Pangs of pity tugged at his heart. Even if it was only hormones that created the feeling, Tobio wanted to rid himself of them before he was needed on the court.

“I have an idea.” He placed a hand on his hip and smirked slightly. “If you’re not too afraid to try, of course.”

“I’m not afraid of some cocky omega.”

So, in an unfortunate (fortunate?) turn of events, Kageyama ended up in a locker room, sitting on a bench in the darkest corner, with a tiny redheaded omega in his lap.

It was a little awkward at first. Tobio gently explained what he was going to do, vaguely apologizing for not controlling his scenting very well. He figured that even if he wasn’t an alpha, who would provide the most comfort to an in-heat omega, he could at least provide fellow omega comfort. That was a thing, right? It made sense in his head.

Hinata Shoyo, the tiny captain (who was now a first year and not in any way a captain), nodded along with the words that Tobio fumbled through. He agreed that his reasoning was logical and sound, and Kageyama wondered if his though processes were disturbed by the heat.

Maybe he should, like, do a google search at some point to get some more knowledge on this whole omega thing. His knowledge of sexual class was next to none.

After some more gentle yet awkward maneuvering, Hinata finally settled his head into the crook of Kageyama’s neck. They both stayed tense for the longest time. The tiniest shift in position was blatantly obvious to the other person, and they had spoken _twice._ Tobio wasn’t even sure if Hinata remembered their first conversation.

Though it was only a matter of minutes, it felt like _hours_ before Hinata’s tiny shoulders relaxed, and his head lulled a little. Tobio was still a little baffled that it even worked. The majority of his brain was completely sure that it wouldn’t work at all, and that he’d put himself into a really awkward position with this boy for absolutely no reason.

It worked, though. Orange and sugar trickled into Kageyama’s senses slowly. Relaxing muscles, and dulled thought processes. Kageyama’s sensations felt like very watered-down heat. Heat without the headache or exhaustion or aches.

Burying his nose into Hinata’s orange scented hair was mindless, and Hinata didn’t mind at all.

It was strangely intimate, to have a stranger in his lap, soaking up his scent and taking comfort in it. Not to mention how weird the mutual reactions were.

Did his dads feel this way when comforting him? The soothing, calming feeling that came with every inhale of breath. Needing to comfort and touch and connect?

Running his knuckles down Hinata’s arms was mindless. He barely realized that he was doing it.

Hinata’s snores knocked him out of the trance that the hormones and scents had propelled him into. He jerked back violently enough that he tipped off the bench and sent Hinata to the floor as well.

“ _Ow,”_ Hinata groaned rubbing his head. “What was that for?”

Hinata’s face was sleep puffy, his eyes a little glazed over, his hair was pressed into his face on one side, and he looked undeniably _cute._

And _holy shit,_ when did he get so cute? His heart fluttered, and his stomach twisted as he stared.

“I—” How was he supposed to respond when Hinata’s yawn was completely adorable? What the fuck! He wasn’t supposed to like this omega!

God, but his heart raced at the thought. Was this a crush? The bubbling laughter in his throat? The quick thumping of his heart? The butterflies flitting in his stomach? The warmth flooding his cheeks?

It certainly sounded like a crush. He had a crush on Hinata Shoyo and it was all because he’d decided to scent him.

This was a poorly thought out idea. He should have googled it first.

“I have to get back to my team.”

***

Scenting, is what it was called. Gently rubbing your nose against someone’s neck in order to find comfort was called scenting. Apparently, the scents (known as _pheromones_ ) are strongest at the juncture between the shoulders and neck. Mates, or families, would scent to bring comfort to each other and give the family a tighter, more cohesive smell. Alpha’s would use the method to provide non-sexual comfort to omega companions, or children. Even still, it was an intimate exchange that was typically reserved for people you knew very well. Doing it without knowing a person previously was proven (by _multiple_ studies) to increase sexual and emotional attraction.

He _definitely_ should have googled it before doing it with Hinata.

It was a bit of a relief to know that the somewhat sudden attraction to Hinata was justified by science. He wasn’t _actually_ attracted to Hinata, it was a hormonal reaction that came from smelling his scent on him while the other was in heat.

(He quietly ignored the _other_ proven studies that showed people who scented early on in relationships typically had stronger emotional bonds that lead to long-lasting committed relationships and healthier marriages.)

Googling what scenting was before doing it would have saved him from the embarrassment that happened after he came home, too.

“Tobio! Welcome home. How was the tourn…a….” Dad’s words trailed off and he let his eyes settle firmly on his son. “…ment. Why do you smell that way?”

“What do I smell like?” Kageyama asked, looking baffled. “Do I smell weird? I was going to go shower, it might be—”

“No, no. You smell like oranges. Like—” he gasped softly. “You smell like _omega!”_ He rushed closer to investigate the scent, pressing his nose into Tobio’s hair and taking a deep inhale.

“Like _omega?_ ” Didn’t he _always_ smell like omega? What did that even mean?

Oikawa stepped back again, putting his hands on his hips and narrowing his eyes.

“You said you weren’t going to make out in any locker rooms,” he reprimanded, leaning closer. A year or so ago, he might have had to lean downwards, but Tobio was nearly as tall as him now, only a couple centimeters short.

“I _didn’t_! All I did was help Hinata,” Kageyama explained irritably. “He was in heat and I—I scented him to help him out because he clearly needed it to make it through any of the tournament.”

“You _scented_ a random omega instead of taking him to the nurse to get suppressants?” Dad accused, an eyebrow raised.

“He could barely move! And he’s not random. I met him at the tournament I went to during my first heat,” he continued on, making a move towards his room.

“Tobio, it sounds an _awful lot_ like you like this volleyball freak,” Oikawa insinuated, following Tobio down the hall dotingly.

“I don’t _like_ him. It’s just—” It’s just what? His scent makes his thoughts hazy, and he’s the perfect size to sit in Kageyama’s lap, and talking to him makes butterflies flit around in his stomach. He _definitely_ likes him. He didn’t have an argument against that. “His scent was the first thing that didn’t make me want to die when I was in heat. I wanted to repay the favor. Even if he didn’t remember me.”

“His scent comforted you before you’d even met him?” he asked, looking stunned.

“What? Is that weird?” Kageyama shed his light volleyball club jacket, digging through his drawers for pajamas he could change into after he showered.

“No, no. It’s nothing. Go shower before Iwa comes home and thinks he was right about you finding a partner in your first year.”

“Before I think I was right about what?” he inquired from the doorway.

“ _Dammit.”_

“What was I right abo—” Iwa stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath in through his nose, letting his eyes slip shut. When he reopened his eyes, he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Why does it smell like—”

“Oranges?” Kageyama offered up, hoping this would distract Iwa enough to allow Tobio time to scurry off and shower away the scent of Hinata that had soaked into his skin.

“No, no. It smells like omega. Like an omega in heat.” Iwaizumi furrowed his eyebrows and turned to the only omega in the room, giving him a stern look. “Tobio, _what—”_

“It was an accident!” he yelped, standing tense. It was one thing to get in trouble with Dad about these sorts of things. Dad would lecture him, give him a good scolding and maybe send him off to his room. _Iwa_ , on the other hand, would cut straight to it. He’d need a fully detailed report of the situation, and would punish and scold him accordingly. It was _brutal._

“You had some sort of sexual encounter today, and it was an _accident?”_ he asked. There was no malice in his voice. Maybe a little disbelief, maybe a little amusement, but nothing disapproving.

“I didn’t realize that scenting was, like, this weird intimate thing so I maybe, kind of sort of, helped out an omega from another team because volleyball tournaments are full of alphas and I didn’t want him to get hurt, so I had him, you know, scent me so he could calm down a little before I dragged him to the nurse’s station,” Kageyama explained quickly, attempting to play down what he’d done.

“And you didn’t think to bring a nurse or an adult to him?” Iwa pressed further, incredulousness written all over his face.

“Well, of course not! He challenged me! I couldn’t turn him down, he’s just a tiny middle blocker.” Tobio huffed, mentally rolling his eyes at how defiant Hinata had seemed during their conversation. He was ready to pick a fight, ready to strike at any moment like a snake.

“It sounds like you like him,” Iwaizumi shrugged, finally slipping off his shoes and stepping out of the entryway.

“I said the same thing,” Dad added, crossing his arms. “Tobio-chan has it _bad_ for the orange kid.”

“I do not!” he protested, even as blood rushed to his cheeks, making his face ruddy with embarrassment.

“Be safe, Tobio,” Iwa encouraged, ruffling Tobio’s hair. “ _And_ bring him over for dinner some time. He can join the Godzilla marathon you both promised me because I was _totally right._ ”

Tooru and Tobio groaned. They both had hoped he’d forgotten about that.

***

The next time Kageyama saw Hinata, it was at a practice match between their schools.

After the scenting incident, Kageyama _never_ wanted to see Hinata again. His heart was treacherous when he was around the boy who smelled like oranges and sugar, who’s scent made Kageyama’s insides melt like snow in the summer sun.

When he entered the gym, Kageyama immediately made three mistakes:

  1. Automatically searching for the redhead
  2. Taking a deep breath in to get a hint of his scent
  3. _Making eye contact_



Hinata was searching for him too, Kageyama realized.

Numbers overwhelmed Kageyama’s thoughts like an avalanche. 81% of couples who scented within the first month of dating claimed they were happy with their mates. 63% confessed to having an active sex life. 94% said their partner’s scent was pleasing and comforting. 37% of couples who scent within the first month of dating get married.

_Married. Hitched. Tied the knot._

That was a high percentage! Kageyama could be part of that percentage!

His heart raced, and he was stricken by a lightning bolt of fear. It sparked and tingled down to his extremities, he could feel it in the tips of his fingers, and at the soles of his feet. Even though Hinata was standing at the opposite corner of the gym, the smell of his pheromones still seeped into Kageyama.

The thought of getting married, and the thought of being in a relationship were both _terrifying,_ but the thought of Hinata soothed him.

Honestly, what the _hell?_

He’d met him _twice!_ Two times, he’d met this kid and he had this sort of power over him? Bullshit, he called. Bullshit. He wouldn’t let some punk middle blocker intimidate him before a game, scenting or no scenting. It was all _bullshit._

Deliberate ignorance. For this practice match, he would ignore any thoughts he had about previous interactions with him. Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it? In this practice match, Hinata Shoyo was an opponent, a player on the other half of the court that didn’t deserve his thoughts and feelings. Nothing more.

He was just an opponent.

***

On second thought, maybe Hinata Shoyo _wasn’t_ just an opponent.

Now, to be fair, he wasn’t really up on the definition of opponent (he wasn’t so great at memorizing vocabulary words), but he was _pretty sure_ that you don’t shove your opponents into a set of lockers and make out with them until both of you are dizzy with lust and grinding against each other.

Hinata panted into his neck, pressing occasional kisses, biting down to muffle moans, as they rolled their hips in sync with each other. Hinata had his leg hooked behind Kageyama’s legs, depending on him to keep them upright. Kageyama, for his part, was leaning almost all of his weight onto the dark blue lockers behind them.

“ _Close, close,”_ Hinata whined. The breath ghosting along Tobio’s neck was almost as erotic as the hands twisted in the back of his jersey, and the clenching of the muscles in Hinata’s legs that Tobio could feel against him.

Tobio rolled his hips once, hard and slow, and Hinata keened in climax, seed spilling on the inside of his shorts. Tobio rutted against him a few times more before following suit.

 _“Fuck_ ,” Tobio hissed into Shoyo’s shoulder as the reality of what they’d done hit him during the afterglow. Shoyo was still panting, and their scents hung in the air. His team would know what had happened.

Maybe they already did.

He had to admit, the sexual tension that hung between Hinata and Kageyama during the game was blatantly obvious to anyone with eyes. Any _thing_ with eyes. A cat could spot out their sexual tension.

They’d mocked each other through the net, glaring, sarcastic comments abundant. Every time a spike was blocked, and every time a point was scored, they’d have something to say to the other about it. In fact, Yahaba had scolded Kageyama for it during a time-out.

Kindaichi had scoffed at Hinata during the game, rolling his eyes at him for even playing seriously with his height and his class. A short omega playing middle blocker? What a joke.

Except it _wasn’t_ a joke, and both Kageyama and Hinata snapped at him for the comment.

Hinata Shoyo wasn’t— _couldn’t—_ be just an opponent. They got along way too well for that.

“This hasn’t changed my mind. I’m still going to beat you at the Spring tournament,” Hinata declared as they untangled from each other, cringing at the gross, sticky feeling on the insides of their shorts.

“Likewise. I won’t go easy on you,” Kageyama affirmed, crossing his arms proudly. It was true, this hadn’t changed anything between them. They were attracted to each other, they both had a passion for volleyball, and they both wanted to win. Their relationship could stay like that.

Opponents who swapped phone numbers and took dorky profile pictures of the other and made promises to play volleyball together sometime. Opponents who apparently only lived about a twenty-minute walk away from each other. Opponent who—against their better judgement—kissed one last time before returning to their teams.

Goodbyes were said, and thanks were given before Karasuno finally left in an orderly line. It was time to pack up the gym and head home.

Unfortunately, it was the first-year’s turn to pack up, leaving Tobio in the gym alone with Kunimi and Kindaichi. Perfect. Exactly how he wanted this otherwise great day to go. They’d won a practice match, he’d had an—ah, _encounter_ , with Hinata, and Iwa was making curry for dinner. There was nothing wrong with the day.

Other than cleaning the gym with Kunimi and Kindaichi.

“ _Gross,”_ Kindaichi sneered when he was working with Kageyama to put the net away. “You _reek_ of omega.” Tobio rolled his eyes. It was a pretty low blow, and didn’t deserve any more of a reaction than that. Besides, Kindaichi was an alpha. He could probably smell both Hinata’s scent and his own more distinctly than other people.

“He’s right, you know,” Kunimi affirmed, though there was no disgust in his voice. “I didn’t realize you liked the tiny middle blocker _that_ much.”

“I don’t,” he denied, despite the fact that he couldn’t believably deny their claim. He wasn’t going to continue this conversation any further if he could prevent it. Kindaichi and Kunimi were _barely_ his teammates, and they _definitely_ weren’t his friends. They didn’t deserve any extra information about him.

“I mean, you obviously do. I don’t go around making out with random players that I don’t like. If I did, you would be at the top of that list.” Kindaichi smirked, as they finished up their tasks. Thank _god._ Tobio would be allowed to go home soon.

“Don’t make it _weird_ , Yuu,” Kunimi scolded. “I can’t believe you can imagine making out with such a selfish king. Did you even let shrimpy get off?” Kageyama grabbed his bag, sitting at the entrance of the gym, heading towards home.

“You two are only upset because I made out with someone I’ve only interacted with three times, when you two have been lusting after each other for years, but still haven’t made a move,” he snapped, not looking at them. He flipped them off as he left, not saying anything more.

***

“Look, last time it might have worked, but with the way you smell, this was definitely _not_ an accident,” Iwa commented as soon as Tobio entered the house. Tobio wished that scents weren’t so apparent. It was _so_ embarrassing that everyone knew when he did something.

“It wasn’t,” Tobio admitted, biting on his bottom lip and fidgeting with his hands. He so wasn’t ready to confess to what had happened.

How would a conversation like that even go?

‘Hey dad I totally made out with a player from another team and it was really hot and I think I like him, yeah, funny I know, goodnight.’

No, no. They wouldn’t accept that. More detail was necessary, right?

‘Hey, you remember when I smelled like this before and I claimed I totally didn’t like that guy? Ha, well, I lied. I’m really hardcore crushing on him and I made out with him in the locker room, and now we have each other’s phone numbers. Anyway, now I’m going to throw myself off a cliff, bye.”

That was a little too specific. What about…

‘You remember how you always talk about getting together in the Seijoh locker rooms? Well, I did that exact same thing today. He’s really cute and is coming over to visit sometime.’

Yeah, that seemed about right. Full details without any details and a promise that they’d meet him. A perfect storm that allowed him to avoid going into any uncomfortable topics with his parents.

“I made out with him in the locker room.” _Dammit._ That’s not what he planned to say! It came spilling out all at once. Was it guilt? An inherent need to talk about his distress and how in love he was with this tiny orange player?

He dropped his head onto the kitchen counter, groaning in frustration.

“I’ve done this whole relationship thing backwards,” he complained. “I have his phone number. He only lives twenty minutes away. He’s an omega, but I _really_ like him.” The words kept gushing out of him against his will. Did he really want to be confessing all of his feelings like this? Not really. Was it happening anyway? Tragically.

“You haven’t done it _entirely_ backwards. You’re trying to get to know him, right?” Iwa offered as comfort. Tobio rested his chin on the table now, facing Iwa, but not looking at him.

“Well, yeah. I do _like_ him, you know. I want to get to know him,” Tobio muttered, blush rising to his cheeks.

“What do you want to know about him?”

“I don’t know. Everything. I want to know about why he’s playing volleyball, and his favorite food, and what kind of movies he likes, and about his family, and his favorite color and when his birthday is and—”

“You’ll do just fine, Tobio,” Iwaizumi chuckled. He glanced to the sides, as if to check his surroundings, and then turned back to Tobio. “If you go _right now_ and shower and throw your clothes in the laundry you can rinse the scent off and I’ll tell Dad for you.”

“Seriously?” Tobio wanted to hug him, because there was _no way_ Dad would be as easygoing about this as Iwa was.

“Seriously. You have to hurry, though. He’ll be home soon.”

Tobio rushed towards the bathroom to shower. It was the small mercies, wasn’t it?

It was weird, though. As he showered, he felt weird trying to scrub the scent of Hinata off of him. He had kind of _liked_ having Hinata’s scent hanging off of him. Even if it leads to weird and awkward conversations with his parents.

He wondered if that would be a creepy first text to send to someone. Probably.

He toweled off after his shower, skin red from the heat of the water. Typically, he didn’t like the water so hot, but sometimes it was nice to relax his muscles under the scalding spray.

With just a towel wrapped around his waist, he walked back to his room to get dressed. They were having a night at home, nothing interesting except maybe watching Brooklyn 99. He didn’t have to put any effort into his appearance. Sweatpants and a t-shirt should—

_Buzz. Buzz._

Tobio leapt for his phone, plugged in on his bed. A phone call! Hinata had _called_ him! A text message would have been fine, sure. But a _phone call?_ That was so much more than he’d anticipated.

“Hello?” he answered the call, trying to make sure he didn’t sound as _thrilled_ as he was to receive the call.

 _“Kageyama! I wasn’t sure you’d pick up,”_ Hinata chirped over the line, smile apparent in his voice.

“Ah, well,” he mumbled. He’d only been waiting for Hinata to text him since Karasuno left.

 _“Anyway, what’s up?”_ Hinata asked. The segue was a little rough, but Tobio couldn’t blame him. They’d only met three times before this. _And_ they’d made out in a locker room. It wasn’t exactly great grounds for a casual conversation.

“Just got out of the shower. Iwa’s making dinner.” It suddenly occurred to Tobio that _maybe_ it wasn’t perfect manners to answer the phone while naked. He stood up to put clothes on, carefully making sure Hinata didn’t hear him opening drawers and getting dressed.

 _“Who’s Iwa?”_ Oh. Yeah. Not everyone was familiar with his family life. _Stupid._ He should have clarified earlier.

“My dad. One of them, at least. Iwa is the less obnoxious one. Dad is…an acquired taste.” Tobio rubbed at the back of his neck even though Hinata couldn’t see the gesture. He felt the need to squirm around as he spoke to Hinata. He was _nervous_ speaking to him, anxious to make sure that he didn’t say something wrong that would make Hinata dislike him.

He so _desperately_ wanted Hinata to like him. The butterflies in his stomach and the overheating only proved it.

 _“They sound fun. I have two dads too, but I don’t think anyone could dislike them. Suga is really friendly and he smiles a lot. Daichi can be scary sometimes. He’s not all that bad, though. They’re good to me and my sister,”_ Hinata rattled on, more than willing to share information about his family. The way he spoke sounded almost like he had been adopted too. Was that something he could ask? People rarely asked him unless they were classist and being condescending. He looked similar enough to his parents that no one ever questioned it. Adoption was normal these days.

“You have a sister?” Kageyama said instead, flopping down on his bed now that he had clothes on.

“ _Yeah! Little Natsu. She looks like me except shorter.”_

“Shorter? Is that even possible?”

“ _Shut up.”_ There was a pause before he continued, _“You should come play volleyball sometime. My parents were on a team. Maybe we could do a three-on-three?”_

“A family versus family volleyball game?” he almost laughed. “That sounds so lame.”

“ _I know, but—”_

“My dads would love it. I’m in. I’ll ask them tonight.” Hinata’s sigh of relief was audible. He’d been thinking about it since the game, obviously.

“ _Yeah! I’ll do the same. It’ll be great! You can meet my parents and Natsu and we can totally crush you guys at volleyball.”_

“You wish. My dads played too.”

“ _Really? So many volleyball players.”_

“We’re totally winning.”

“ _As if!_ ”

“We are!”

“Tobio!” Dad shouted from the kitchen. “Dinner is done!”

“Hinata, I have to go eat dinner,” he rushed out, standing up. Should he ask to talk later? Maybe a post-call text would be more appropriate. They weren’t a ‘call you later’ couple yet.

 _A couple?_ No, no. Not a couple. They were friends with benefits? Not quite. They weren’t really friends yet. ‘Opponents who scented and made out in a locker room’ was a long, but appropriate, title.

“ _Of course! Talk to you later. Keep me updated on the three-on-three game. That’ll be a blast.”_

“Bye, Hinata.”

“ _Bye Kageyama!”_

He didn’t really want to hang up. He also really wanted to eat. He could call Hinata again later.

The weirdest thing is—Kageyama doesn’t even _like_ talking on the phone. It was always weird. You couldn’t see facial expressions and any pauses at all felt horrendously long. It was too casual for face to face etiquette to apply, and too formal for text etiquette to apply. What was he supposed to do? Suffer?

None of it mattered when it was Hinata, though. Screw normality, right? They were making out before they were even friends, not to mention the whole two-omegas-in-a-relationship thing. He didn’t feel the need to be polite or formal. It was Hinata, and talking to him was all Kageyama needed.

And _wow,_ he was crushing hard. What the hell.

The butterflies in his stomach still hadn’t calmed, and he was barely containing a grin when he got to the kitchen.

Dad raised an eyebrow at him when he hummed while getting a glass of water. It wasn’t _that_ weird for him to be happy. He was allowed to hum and be happy.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped at Dad against his better judgement. It would just make him look more suspicious than he already did after talking on the phone with someone in his room. Tooru narrowed his eyes.

“Why are you so happy?” he asked, still staring hard at Tobio.

He had plenty of legitimate reasons to be happy. _We won the practice game today. Yahaba actually let me play setter today. I got enough sleep last night. We’re having food that I really like for dinner._ They wouldn’t be the real reasons, though.

“I—” he stopped himself. He couldn’t let himself slip up like he had with Iwa. “We won the practice game today.” He subtly made eye contact with Iwa, hoping that he’d earn his approval at least.

“Really? Against who?” Oikawa didn’t seem entirely convinced. It was a nice detour anyway.

“Karasuno. Yahaba-san let me play setter during the match,” he tried to chirp. He wasn’t so good at the whole ‘acting’ thing.

“That’s not it,” he denied. “Who did you play today?”

“Tobio, it’s not even worth it,” Iwa sighed, setting dishes on to the table. Tobio breathed in relief. He didn’t want to tell Dad and have to explain himself, but he _really_ didn’t want to fake it. Slumping into the dining room chair, much like he’d slumped against the counter earlier, he gave in.

“I kissed a boy in the locker room after the game and he just called me and invited us to a three-on-three with his family and I _really_ like him, and I have all these gross emotions,” he rambled, shutting his eyes.

“This is the orange kid, right?” he asked, getting himself a plate of curry and rice.

“Hinata. Yes,” he affirmed. “He’s—yeah.”

“’He’s yeah?’” Dad stared at him incredulously. “I need details, sweetheart.”

“I don’t know. I’m not good with feelings,” Tobio pouted. Dad didn’t respond, only stared expectantly with his chin resting in one hand. “He’s warm. And competitive. And weird. A little stupid.”

“He sounds like just your type,” Iwa said after swallowing a bite of food. Tobio finally reached over the table to get himself a plate as well.

“He _is._ That’s why I made out with him, obviously.”

“What about this three-on-three that he invited you to?” Oikawa inquired out of curiosity.

“I told him that you two played volleyball. And his parents did too. So now he wants to have a family versus family three-on-three. He thinks they’ll win,” Tobio explained.

“Unlikely,” Tooru scoffed. “We’ll totally win.”

“Which is what _I_ said. So, we have to prove it. I’ll text him so we can arrange it,” Tobio offered through a mouthful of food.

“Obviously,” Iwa reaffirmed, leaning back in his chair a little. “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

“Sorry,” Tobio muttered, his mouth full.

“And be safe, won’t you? We can’t control what you do at school or at tournaments, but if you need advice, or condoms or suppressants or whatever, just ask. It’s better than getting hurt,” Iwa calmly requested. Tobio nodded affirmatively.

“I will.”

***

Tobio and Shoyo grew into friends faster than either of them anticipated. They texted constantly, and called when they could. Tobio jumped for his phone whenever he received a notification, happiness spreading through him no matter what the text said. Anything from a simple hello to two paragraphs about Shoyo’s day thrilled him. It was the strangest (and closest) friendship Tobio had ever had with anyone.

Not like there was much to compare it. That wasn’t the point, though.

Hinata liked to chat on mindlessly about everything and nothing at all. He’d talk about his classmates and teammates—he wasn’t fond of Tsukishima, but Nishinoya was really cool—and he would ramble about whatever movie or book or fun fact had piqued his interest lately. They had even had a lengthy discussion about actors they found attractive. Kageyama wasn’t really a talker at all, but it didn’t matter. He was more than content to listen to whatever Hinata wanted to talk about.

They had ended up scheduling the three-on-three for a month after the initial conversation. A Saturday morning at the Rec Center, when everyone was free. Tobio was thrilled about it. He’d get to play volleyball with his parents, _and_ spend time with Hinata. A total win-win situation.  

Still, it was a long time to wait before they met up again.

So they arranged a get-together. Not a date. Definitely not a date. A get-together. They’d both agreed.

(Kageyama _did_ plan on kissing him. That didn’t make it a date, though.)

Tobio had never felt the urge to look nice when going out. However the world perceived him was how they perceived him. Why should he put effort into impressing strangers he’d never see again?

That changed a little when he had a boy to impress. He _would_ be seeing Shoyo again, and he _did_ want to impress him.

Still, he felt a little pathetic asking Dad to help him pick out an outfit.

“Why, I thought the da would _never_ come,” Oikawa exaggerated, wiping away false tears of joy from his eyes. “All this time I’ve spent, hanging out with my two ugly boys. And now my own son comes to me for wardrobe advice? I’m so _proud_ —”

“If you don’t stop, this will be the last time I ever ask you for help,” Tobio threatened, a little embarrassed.

“Fine, fine. Show me the way, your majesty.”

Oikawa promptly rejected the two outfits that Tobio was trying to choose between. He folded them and shoved them away in Tobio’s dresser again, digging through the drawers to find something more appropriate. He picked out articles of clothing and would stare at them. Sometimes they were held up to Tobio, other times they were completely rejected. Ultimately, he ended with three different and well-coordinated outfits laid out on Tobio’s bed.

“So, these three outfits should be good for a first date,” he nodded self-assuredly.

“It’s not a—”

“They all send very different messages,” he continued on, ignoring Tobio’s protest. He gently ran his fingers over the first outfit. Slim fitting dark gray sweatpants, and a navy t-shirt. “This one screams ‘just friends.’ It’s casual, comfortable, no effort put into it.” He moved to the next outfit, straightening out the leg of the denim blue jeans that he’d paired with a white undershirt and a green collared shirt. “This is the ‘I want to get to know you’ outfit. Cute, a little more formal, but comfortable.” Finally, to the last outfit, black skinny jeans, sky blue v neck, and a light gray pullover sweatshirt.

“It’s not cold out, I don’t know why I need a sweatshirt,” Tobio pointed out.

“No, no. You don’t understand. This is the ‘kiss me’ outfit. The sweatshirt is _vital_.” Upon seeing Tobio’s baffled look, he sighed before continuing, “Pull the sleeves up to right beneath your elbows. Show off your pretty setter hands and your cute wrists.”

“’Cute wrists?’”

“Hush. Once the date is going well, and the tension is at an appropriate level, pull off the sweatshirt slowly. It’ll pull your shirt up, and show off the abs and arms. Plus, mussed hair is pretty cute.” He pointed a finger at him. “You won’t even have to try to get to him to kiss you.”

“Why do you even know all of this?” Kageyama wondered aloud as he glanced over the outfits.

“I didn’t seduce Iwa-chan by sitting around. I chose my outfits carefully and conveyed the messages I wanted to.”

Tobio sighed and snatched up the third outfit. He was right about all of it. Tobio needed to make his intentions clear, especially if his goal was to make out with Hinata.

“Thanks,” Tobio mumbled as he left for the bathroom to change.

He stared at himself in the mirror, following Dad’s instructions to pull the sleeves of the sweatshirt up. He looked _good._ His neck was visible and looked strong, and the jeans made his legs look gorgeous. There was something about having his forearms exposed that _completed_ the look. He felt cool, and attractive.

He was supposed to meet Hinata in half an hour. They were going to practice receives in the park, and then they were going to Kageyama’s for dinner and a (reluctant) Godzilla marathon.

He didn’t expect to be so _nervous_ for such a casual outing. Volleyball and movies. This wasn’t _weird._ It wasn’t difficult or new. The only thing he was adding in was Hinata.

When he walked into the living room, Dad made a pleased noise.

“It’s _perfect!_ Now, if only you’d let me do something with your hair…” Oikawa was _always_ wanting to do something with Tobio’s hair. He’d asked many, many, _many_ times over the years to do something with Tobio’s hair. If it were up to him, Tobio would have a different hairstyle every single day. It sounded exhausting to Tobio.

“I’m not going to let you mess with my hair again.” He had some brief, traumatizing flashbacks to flat irons, gels, and other goopy and sticky products. _Gross._

“But it’s so easy to style!”

“ _No._ ”

“You look great, Tobio. You’ll blow him away,” Iwa commented, with a kind smile.

“It’d be even better if—"

“I’m headed out,” Tobio said, disregarding both of them.

“Bye, Tobio!”

“Have fun! Be safe!”

***

He couldn’t stop staring.

Kageyama had always been vaguely aware that he was attractive. He’d had his fair share of girls and boys confess to him over the years. He’d had alphas approach him in the days after his heat, when the scent still clung to his skin. He always assumed that it was stupid and hormonal. Girls only thought he was mysterious and cool. Boys only wanted him for his sexual class. It wasn’t actually Tobio that they wanted, that they thought was truly attractive.

No, Tobio never considered himself to be attractive. Not out of insecurity or lack of confidence, but because he’d never thought that was something important.

The way Hinata stared at him, though, that made all the difference.

Every time he missed a receive or dropped the ball, Tobio would catch him staring wide eyed at Tobio. His gaze would fixate on different parts. Sometimes on his legs, sometimes on his arms, sometimes on his face. Tobio couldn’t decide if he wanted to hide away, or snap at Hinata for getting so distracted.

After the third time the ball whizzed passed Hinata’s head, Tobio had _had it._

“Stop _staring!”_ he snapped, while Hinata went to hit the ball towards him. Promptly, the ball fell from Shoyo’s hands.

“How am I supposed to help it when you look so cute!” Hinata shouted back, picking the volleyball up again.

Kageyama paused before he responded. The air around them hung heavy, like a sparking storm cloud. Was this the tension Dad had spoken about? The time to take of his sweatshirt?

Tobio pulled his sweatshirt off aggressively, throwing it to the ground beside him.

“There! Is that better?” he growled at Hinata.

Shoyo groaned in frustration, hurling the ball towards Tobio’s face. “No! It makes it worse!”

“Then what do you _want_ me to do?”

“I _want_ you to come over here and kiss me!”

“ _Fine!”_

_“Okay!”_

They both froze. Had they…? What…

“Maybe we should wait until we get back to your house,” Hinata suggested.

“Yeah.”

***

On one hand, Tobio felt sort of bad making out with Hinata on the couch. On the other hand, he _really_ didn’t want to stop.

It was a different feeling, holding himself up on his elbows above Shoyo.  Their lips sealed together in a slick contact. One off Hinata’s hands was twisted in Tobio’s hair, and the other rested on the small of his back, fingers dipping below his waistband.

The last two times he’d been with Hinata like this had been rushed encounters. Fast, hot, hidden away. This was a little different.

Soft, slow movements. The feel of Hinata’s heartbeat against his own, the slow rolls of hips that were teasing and _oh so good._ The rhythmic tugs on Tobio’s hair. They were commands. Do this, not that. Kiss here, more tongue, faster, slower. Tobio obeyed without thought. It would make it better for the both of them, ultimately.

Tobio pressed his lips to Hinata’s pulse point, loving the feel of his elevated heartrate. It was proof he wanted this too, that he was enjoying it just as much.

He felt Hinata’s blissful sigh more than he heard it.

“You’re beautiful, Tobio,” Hinata whispered reverently. “I thought—well, at first I thought it was weird. You know, omegas aren’t supposed to like omegas and all that.”

“Bullshit,” Tobio spoke into Hinata’s skin, punctuating the words with a little nip to his collarbone. He loved the way Hinata’s breath shook when he used his teeth.

“And then, after you scented me, I thought you were a weirdo.”

“I will literally bite you.” Tobio, leaned back so he was on his knees and could push Hinata’s shirt up.

Shoyo shushed him. “Let me talk. I thought you were a weirdo, but I liked you. I thought about you a lot.” He squeaked when Kageyama pinched one of his nipples. “I—you—ah, you were really cool. I wanted to play volleyball with you.”

“I _am_ great at volleyball.” He now leaned down to press his mouth to Hinata’s exposed torso, pressing his lips and hands to his heated skin.

“And then you kept teasing me at the practice match and then I _knew_ you liked me too. You _kissed_ me and _wow._ The two omegas thing wasn’t so bad after that and— _ow!_ What the heck?” Hinata glared at Kageyama, who had abruptly bit him.

“It doesn’t matter whether or not we’re both omegas,” Kageyama snapped. “You like me, right?”

“I _just told you_ I do.”

“Then it doesn’t matter. Whether we’re alphas or omegas or betas or guys or girls. We’re happy, we like each other. That’s it. Anyone who says otherwise can fuck off.”

Hinata cupped the back of Tobio’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It was chaste, slow and loving. Shoyo’s fingers twirling the soft strands at his nape.

“You like me too,” Hinata hummed cheerfully.

“You should have known that already, dumbass.”

 They stayed like that for a while. Gentle kisses and words mumbled into each other’s mouths. Slow hands exploring every detail.

Shoyo counted the moles on Tobio’s shoulders, kissing each and every one of them. Tobio scolded Shoyo for every bruise he found, insisting that he take better care of himself. They lost themselves in their own little world together. One made up of affection and a mutual love of competition and volleyball.

It was a little stupid, their relationship. A little childish, a little playful, a little aggressive. But it was them. Even if it was still new, it was wholeheartedly them.

Neither of them registered when the door clattered open.

It took them _way_ too long to register the voices from the entryway.

It took them less than a second to scramble away from each other and desperately try to rearrange their clothes in a way that looked decent.

“Tobio? Are you hom—oh.” Tooru stared at the pair, sitting as far apart from each other as they could while remaining on the same couch. Both of them were flushed, and the redhead’s shirt was wrinkled beyond belief. Oikawa laughed at the sight. God, it was _so funny_ being on the other side of this interaction.

“I definitely wasn’t making out with your son!” Hinata blurted, putting his hands up defensively.

Tobio rolled his eyes. “The outfit worked,” he offered by way of explanation.

“I _told you._ It’s all about the hands and wrists,” Tooru insisted, turning on his heel to head back to the kitchen.

“ _What’s_ all about the hands and wrists?” Hinata hissed at Kageyama, who had stood up to stretch and then head to the kitchen. If they actually were going to have a movie marathon, chances were that Iwa and Dad had bought lots of snacks for it, and he was going to call first dibs on the raisinettes.

“Dad helped me pick out an outfit,” Tobio explained. “He said that if I wanted you to kiss me, I should show off my ‘pretty hands and wrists.’” He airquoted the words as he spoke them.

“So you _intentionally_ wore an outfit that made you look hot?” Hinata cried out, sitting up straighter.

“Obviously.”

“You jerk!” Shoyo jumped up and followed Tobio into the kitchen. Dad and Iwa were making popcorn and boxed brownies, stay-at-home movie marathon classics. They also always bought sour skittles. None of them really liked them that much, but they just couldn’t call it a true movie night without them.

“How was the park?” Iwa asked when he heard them step into the kitchen.

“Hinata’s receives are still shitty.” Tobio smirked, knowing that it would rile up Hinata.

“Hey!” Shoyo protested.

“Language, Tobio.” Tooru rolled his eyes. It was too late to stop his kid from swearing. Iwa’s potty mouth had already infected him. He focused, now on Hinata, assessing him quickly with a quick glance over him. “You know, Tobio talked about you a lot. He never mentioned that you were so _cute_ , though. Isn’t he just precious, Iwa-chan?”

“I never doubted Tobio’s tastes,” Iwaizumi said, not turning around from where he was at the stove popping popcorn.

“You talked about me?”

“Of _course_ I talked about you,” Tobio said. “How was I supposed to get any advice without talking about you?”

“I don’t know it just surprises me. You seem kinda like a—” Hinata pushed his hair down and frowned. “’I don’t need help from anyone’ type,” he explained in a poor imitation of Kageyama.

“I’m not like that!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I am _not!_ ”

Oikawa couldn’t be prouder of Tobio and his boyfriend.

***

Two movies, and a lot of popcorn and candy later, Hinata said goodbye to Tobio and his family. Shyly, he kissed Tobio before he left, waving as he left with a bright blush on his cheeks.

“I like him,” Iwa concluded, leaning his head on Tooru’s shoulder affectionately.

“Our Tobio sure did choose a nice one,” Tooru agreed, smiling and leaning his head atop Hajime’s.

“You two are so embarrassing,” Tobio sighed, even as he wormed his way in between them, insisting he get his fair share of snuggling from them as well.

“You love us still, don’t you?” Hajime asked, pressing a kiss to Tobio’s temple.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” he hummed, closing his eyes.

Tobio fell asleep halfway into Godzilla vs Space Godzilla. Hajime carried him to his room while the credits rolled.

“Just what did we do to deserve him?”

“I’m just as clueless as you are, Tooru.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should finish it up! It'll be the 3-on-3 and Kagehina through high school into college. Thank you guys for reading <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter!!!!! this is a little more nsfw than previous chapters please be warned.  
> thank you all for reading this! i can't believe how popular this story has gotten, and i just want to thank you all for your comments and kudos <3 <3

The discomfort started sometime during sixth period. It began with a pain in his stomach. Not like nausea, not the sort of pain an ulcer would cause, deep and intense. No, it was more like he’d been stabbed in the stomach suddenly, the wound sending pain to his limbs that pulsed all the way into his fingertips. His head felt like it was under an unimaginable amount of pressure at the front of his head. He furrowed his eyebrows together and squeezed his eyes shut to try and alleviate some of the ache.

Then, the fever hit him. His palms felt sweaty and cold, while heat still traveled through him again and again.

He squirmed in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position that could alleviate the pain that he suddenly felt. No matter how he twisted his body or stretched his legs, he still ached, his body resisting his movements.

The reality of what was happening didn’t hit him until the scents lingered their way into his senses almost twenty minutes later.

Tobio bolted upright and raised his hand. His pencils clattered off his desk when his knees hit the bottom of it, and his shoulder screamed at him for moving so suddenly. He refused to wince or make a sound at the pain, even though it was so intense that it forced him to bite into his lip to prevent himself from crying out.

“Kageyama? Is there something you need?” the teacher asked politely. She looked concerned, though that wasn’t entirely unfounded. Tobio almost never said anything in class, so it was an unusual occurrence. Not to mention, it _was_ a concerning situation.

“Please let me go to the nurse,” he requested desperately, shifting his legs. No one ever wanted to admit that they were in heat. It was frustrating that he felt shame for something he couldn’t change. Alphas never were guilted for ruts, but heats were different. They were gross and dirty and getting one during school was traumatizing. Everyone could smell it on him, could see the flush on his cheeks and the tension he carried in his movements.

“Of course.” She nodded at him affirmatively, with a soft smile. “Kindaichi, will you walk Kageyama down to the nurse’s office?” Kindaichi looked up suddenly, stunned from his work. He’d been very focused on _something._ Probably not something school related.

“Ah, sure,” he agreed, standing from his chair, and waiting for Kageyama to do the same.

Kindaichi’s scent hurt his head. _God,_ why did that idiot of a teacher send an alpha with him? He was uncomfortable enough being around Kindaichi _without_ any weird hormonal things. Didn’t she know what was going on? Or was she one of those people that thought omegas needed alphas when they were in heat? Tobio rolled his eyes, but groaned when looking up caused him pain.

“Don’t pass out!” Kindaichi yelped, staring at Kageyama with wide, panicked eyes. Tobio glared at him. Even if he was in a lot of pain, he still could give a mean glare.

“I’m not going to _pass out_ , idiot,” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

“But at the tournament—” The poor alpha looked so confused. Kageyama almost felt bad for him.

 _Almost._ Not quite.

“That was my first heat. And there was, like, a hundred people’s scents. It’s not a _normal_ occurrence. Heats are like a fever, sort of,” Tobio explained, a little reluctantly. It hurt to talk, his throat feeling rough. He admits, though, the pain was worth it to see the embarrassed blush on his face. Did he seriously not have any sex ed knowledge? This was basic stuff.

“A fever? It’s always related to, you know,” Kindaichi muttered out, flushed as he rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. This kid wouldn’t last five minutes around Tobio’s parents if he was this embarrassed by talking about heat. It’s not like heat is inherently sexual. Heat is when an omega is the most fertile, is all. Which, Tobio supposes, kind of relates it to sex. As a fifteen-year-old virgin, however, heat wasn’t really a ‘sexy time,’ it was mostly like having a week-long illness. An inconvenience, at its worst.

“Related to what?” he asked, only to mess with him. Maybe it was a _little_ mean, to make him clarify.

“Like, you know, like—” he took a deep breath “—to breeding.”

“To sex, you mean.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Yuutarou sighed through gritted teeth.

“I _guess._ I’ve never really experienced that. I just sleep. And my dads will scent me when it gets intense.” Tobio shrugged dismissively, ignoring the pain from his joints. Kindaichi was really making this more awkward than it needed to be.

“Rut is sort of like that.”

 _Wow,_ Tobio thought sarcastically. _It’s almost like they’re both very similar bodily functions that are tied to hormones._

“I get really tired, and try to stay around people who have familiar scents,” Kindaichi elaborated. “Kunimi normally helps.” Kunimi helps? He _helps?_ What the hell, Kindaichi? One meaningful conversation does not a friendship make. Even if it  _did,_ Kageyama did not need to know about his teammate's sexual activities.

“Okay, _ew._ I really don’t need to know—”

“Not like that!” Kindaichi shouted a little too loudly, making Tobio flinch. “Sorry.”

“Look, I really don’t care about your rut. You don’t have to explain just because I explained my heat to you,” he said. “Besides, I have _two_ alpha dads. I’m pretty familiar with it.” The nurse’s office was in sight (thank _god_ ) and he picked up his pace slightly.

“O-oh.”

“I don’t think I’m going to pass out in the next twenty feet. You can go back to the classroom,” Tobio waved him off, thankful that he’d be able to lay down in the nurse’s office until Dad or Iwa came to pick him up. Right now, his heat wasn’t _unbearable._ He could move, and he was only a little fatigued, but the intensity of it would hit soon. Ideally, he would be home, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, watching a movie by the time that hit.

“Yeah, sure,” Kindaichi moved to turn on his heel, but stopped halfway through the motion, nearly stumbling in the process. “Wait— _two_ alpha dads?”

Tobio ignored him in favor of stepping into the tiny, well lit room. He’d done his good deed for the day. He didn’t need to justify his family situation on top of that. Yuutarou probably didn’t even know he was adopted.

That subject could be saved for another day.

***

Iwa shook Tobio awake from his heat-induced nap. It was one of those awful things that came along with heat. More times than he’d like to admit, he would spontaneously fall asleep with no memory of what he was doing previously. On one particularly embarrassing occasion, he’d fallen asleep in the shower and hit his head on the soap holder. It was a terrible way to wake up,  _and_ he had a bruise on his forehead for a week. Dad and Iwa would never let him live that one down.

His eyes stung at the sudden light, and his head hurt again, his joints aching.

“Hey,” Iwa greeted quietly, a hand on Tobio’s shoulder. “Feeling any better?” Tobio glared at him and hummed out a discontent noise.

“I feel like shit,” he said into the stiff pillow. Iwa ruffled a hand through Tobio’s hair despite the fact that he was sweaty from the fever. It was helpful regardless, the familiar, comfortable scent so close to him again. Tobio relaxed against the touch, shutting his eyes.

“Let’s get you home.” Hajime stood up, offering a hand to help Tobio up. He cringed as he moved off of the bed. His legs protested holding his weight, and his head spun accordingly. Stabling himself fully was difficult, his knees wobbling. Tobio hated feeling so helpless.

The ride home was easy. Iwa didn’t turn on the radio, and he didn’t say anything. This was one thing that Tobio really appreciated about Iwa. Unlike Dad, he fully understood that sometimes the best thing for Tobio was to just _not talk,_ even if it felt wrong. The hum of the car’s engine, the buzzing that came from the road beneath them, and the familiar gingerbread scent that had soaked into the upholstery of the seats. All of it relieved his symptoms a little. He sat up a little and watched the world pass by him through the window.

As soon as they entered the house, Tobio made a beeline for the couch, collapsing face first onto it, and letting his eyes slip shut. He doubted anything could be more comforting than this.

“Go ahead and turn the tv on, Tobes. I’ll be out there in a moment,” Iwa said, shuffling around in the kitchen. Ah. He lied. Scenting and napping with his dads was more comforting.

Positioning was always a little bit awkward. Finding a comfortable position for both parties that also allowed Tobio to scent them properly was hard, but they always managed. Dad typically preferred for Tobio to sit in his lap, and Iwa preferred them both to be laying down. He was pretty obedient and pliant when in heat, anyway. Getting him to move his head one way or reposition his bony elbows wasn’t difficult.

He wondered, as sleep slowly came to him again, if other kids knew their parent’s scents so intimately. Tobio could distinguish their scents quickly, even if they were all together. Iwa’s strong, spicy scent tended to swirl and muddle Tobio’s senses. It was therapeutic. Dad’s scent was sugary and smelled like home, and it would soak into his skin like sunshine. Together, their scents were warm and comforting and could put him to sleep almost instantly when he was in heat.

Tobio faded in and out of sleep, occasionally picking up on lines of dialogue from whatever episode of _Arrow_ Iwa happened to be watching at the time. He just needed to let the first day of his heat pass. After that he could start taking suppressants, and then he could begin resuming his everyday life.

“Tobio, I need to get up,” Iwa requested after who knows how long. With a whine, Tobio rolled off the couch with as much grace as could be expected from someone running a hormone-induced high fever. He stayed with his knees on the floor and his head firmly planted into the couch cushions as Iwa stood. “You should go put pajamas on. Oikawa’ll be home soon.”

“Mkay,” he mumbled, shuffling his way to his room, legs feeling heavy. He searched through his drawers for his favorite fleece pajama pants. They had tiny volleyballs printed all up and down them. Plus, they were _sinfully_ soft. They were an obvious choice.

His phone buzzed from the pocket of his school uniform pants. He pulled on his Setter Soul t-shirt and dug his phone out from his other pair of pants.

**Hinata** **☆**

Are we still on for tonight?

 _Dammit._ He’d totally forgotten Hinata was supposed to come over! They’d have to cancel now, anyway.

**Tobio**

I’m in heat. Not happening.

Kageyama had expected a near-immediate response. Hinata was a pretty good texter, he responded quickly if he could.

His phone buzzed again, this time a phone call.

“What?” he answered the phone with no pleasantries. He didn’t need any pleasantries with Hinata.

 _“We’re both omegas,”_ Hinata pointed out, as if that explained everything.

“So? Still pretty sure my parents aren’t going to want me around my boyfriend when I’m in heat,” Kageyama huffed, rolling his eyes at Hinata’s’ ridiculousness.

 _“First of all, it’s not like either of us are going to get pregnant,”_ Hinata started. _“_ Second _of all, when did we negotiate calling each other boyfriends?”_

“ _First of all,_ ” Kageyama started, mimicking Hinata’s tone, “an omega _can_ get an omega pregnant, the likelihood is low, though.”

_“Yeah, but—”_

“ _Second of all,_ we go on dates and make out. I was pretty sure we didn’t need to discuss something so stupidly obvious.”

 _“You’re kinda mean when you’re in heat!”_ Hinata exclaimed, sounding much too cheery for Kageyama’s tastes. “ _Have you tried getting off?”_

“Have I tried—wh—no! Why the hell would I do that?”  his voice dropped down to a horrified whisper. Shoyo absolutely should _not_ be allowed to have this effect on him _over the phone._

_“Because you’re in heat, dummy. Heightened arousal! It feels so good when you’re in heat. It’s a totally different experience, I’m telling you. Everything is hot and sensitive and slick and it’s so easy—”_

“ _Shoyo,”_ Kageyama hissed angrily. He doesn’t know what talking like that does to Tobio when he’s in heat. He probably hadn’t even realized that his voice had dropped into a tone that was decidedly sexier than his normal speaking tone.

 _“Are you really telling me you’ve never tried it?”_ he asked, genuinely curious. How did he manage to be so dirty minded _and_ innocent? That shouldn’t be possible.

“ _No._ I haven’t. I sleep through my heats. My dads scent me, and I sleep. I would _never—_ ”

_“Try it, won’t you? Even if it’s just to prove me wrong. Try it for me.”_

Try it? For Hinata? Isn’t that…weird? Masturbating because his boyfriend told him to was _not_ something that Tobio had ever considered doing. That was _really_ perverted. And creepy? Really creepy.

 _“It’s not creepy if I told you to do it,”_ Hinata interjected. _Damn_. He must have said that last bit aloud. _“I’ll even talk you through it!”_

“No! No way. Absolutely not.” Why was he so eager to get Tobio off? He sounded so _excited_ , what the hell.

 _“How is it any different from us making out? It’s not like I haven’t seen and heard you,”_ Hinata said incredulously.

“Because it’s weird! Can we please stop talking about this? My parents are home,” Tobio whispered.

 _“If you call me later, I’ll talk you through it,”_ he offered, purposefully dropping his voice this time. Tobio could tell from his barely restrained laughter.

“You’ll _what?”_

_“Talk you through it! Like making out through the phone!”_

“Fine. I _might_ call you later. If I’ve not already passed out like a normal person does when in heat.”

“ _You’re the weird one, Bakayama.”_

“I’m hanging up.”

“ _You’ll be calling back!”_

Kageyama wasn’t going to call back. He wasn’t going to call him back. No way he was going to call him back. He wasn’t going to let Hinata _talk him through_ getting off. He could do that perfectly well on his own, thank you.

He was going to completely forget about that inappropriate phone call. Hinata didn’t know what he was talking about.

***

“It smells a _lot_ like you, Tobio,” Dad had commented over breakfast the next morning, side eyeing him.

“Shouldn’t you be expecting that by now? I’m in heat,” Tobio scoffed. He could deny the scent, but he couldn’t deny the flush in his cheeks.

“Yup. It’s _totally_ normal for our entire house to smell like sex,” Iwa muttered, laughing into his next bite of eggs.

Okay, so _maybe_ Tobio had definitely called Hinata back, and _maybe_ Shoyo was absolutely right about it feeling way better than normal, and _maybe_ he wanted to try it all again.

He’d been very hesitant to call Hinata back. Ultimately, the decision came down to the fact that he’d been thinking about it _all day._ Shoyo’s voice was undeniably endearing, and heat _was_ a time of peak arousal. Admitting that he was feeling horny was something he would never do, so this was his justification.

Waiting for Hinata to pick up felt like _forever,_ especially since it’d taken him so much time to work up the nerve to.

“ _I told you so,_ ” were the first words he heard over the line.

“Shut up. I’m just—” Kageyama squirmed, laying down on his bed.

“ _You couldn’t stop thinking about it? About my voice in your ear, telling you to palm yourself through your clothes, which is_ definitely _something you should try now,”_ Hinata hummed out, and Kageyama obeyed. He was already a little worked up from thinking about this for so long. It didn’t take much before he was fully hard and tenting his shorts.

“This is really weird.” He spoke with his mouth almost fully closed, hoping he wouldn’t make any embarrassing noises.

_“But you like it. It feels a little different, doesn’t it? Hotter. You should probably move your clothes out of the way.”_

Again, Tobio obeyed, touching his own bare skin. Every touch was _burning_ , not in the unpleasant way he normally associated with heat. It was like sparks from his own fingers, like a feather being torturously dragged over his skin, teasing him, arousing him. His breath shuddered out, catching in his throat, when he brushed a knuckle over his own member.

_“It’s good, right? Tell me, Tobio. How is it?”_

“It’s—” he struggled for words, “it’s different.” His voice broke as he spoke.

_“I’m going to tell you what to do next. Are you okay with that?”_

“Yes. Please—” He leaked precum as he moved his hand again, toes curling. His legs felt tense, and his body was too warm. Warmer than he usually was when in heat.

“ _Keep one hand on your dick, but only move it slowly. With your other hand, finger yourself.”_

 “I’ve never done that before,” Kageyama confessed, following Hinata’s instruction to stroke himself.

“ _That’s okay. I’ll walk you through it. You should be slick, but you still need to start slow. One finger, really slowly.”_

Tobio eased his index finger into his hole, squeaking at the feeling. He bit back a needy whine. On instinct, he bent his knees and spread his legs, allowing himself better access.

 _“Ah, I want to kiss your neck so badly. Would you like that? I would like it. I’m sure your volleyball team would love seeing the hickeys on your neck._ ” Those words finally broke Kageyama’s silence. He moaned quietly, moving his hands a little faster, his strokes on his dick in time with his finger moving in and out of his anus.

His thighs tensed, tendons and muscles visible in the way his legs were bent and spread. Would Hinata bite them? Kiss them like he kissed Tobio’s mouth? Torture him until he was wrecked and in such ecstasy, enough that he couldn’t think? He moaned quietly at the thought of it.

“ _Add another finger. And curl both your fingers once they’re in._ ”

Tobio eased in a second finger slowly, until both finger were fully inside of him. Hesitantly, he curled and uncurled them multiple times.

He brushed something, something even more sensitive than the rest of him. He cried out louder than he wanted to, cum spattering onto his stomach.

“ _I told you so,_ ” Shoyo said again with too much smugness in his voice.

“What the _hell?_ That was—” he took a deep breath, trying to bask in the afterglow as much as he could, “that was intense.”

“ _Next time we should try it together!”_ Hinata chirped.

“Goodbye, Hinata.” The last thing he heard before hanging up was Hinata’s musical laughter.

He cleaned himself up quietly, pulling on different pajamas and curling up with his blankets pulled all the way up to his nose.

 _“Dumbass,_ ” he said into his pillow as he fell asleep.

Which is exactly why their entire house smelled like Tobio’s dark, rich, smooth scent. Both of his parents could smell the sex on him, and there was nothing Tobio could do about that fact. Not even showering would get rid of the scent. It was too late for that.

“Good luck with your heat, Tobes. Now you have to wait _another_ day to take suppressants,” Dad laughed. It was totally untrue. It wouldn’t hurt an omega to take suppressants while sexually active (unless they were trying to conceive, of course), just as long as it wasn’t on the first day.

“I’m taking suppressants and you can’t stop me,” he glared.

“We’re not judging you for it, Tobio. God knows that we were both horny teenagers too,” Iwa rolled his eyes, and sent a pointed look to Oikawa.

“Well, that’s true. Remember when—"

“ _Please,_ don’t continue.”

***

Hinata and Kageyama had several other fantastic phone call conversations throughout the week. It was safe to say that Tobio was utterly in love with the sound of Shoyo’s voice, and the sticky feeling afterwards. By the third call, Dad and Iwa didn’t even mention the scent. It was a _little_ embarrassing, but he certainly wasn’t as ashamed as he could have been.

It felt like _forever_ before they got to see each other again at the three-on-three that they’d planned so very long ago. It really wasn’t a long time, but to Shoyo and Tobio, going so long without playing volleyball together was practically torture.

Tobio’s stomach filled with butterflies as they entered the gymnasium at the rec center. It was going to be fantastic, and so much fun. He couldn’t wait to show off his family’s skills in this match. They were _totally_ going to crush Hinata’s family. The same feeling of excitement and anticipation that came with a big tournament came to him while walking into this casual game.

A loud gasp, and then a shout, “Kageyama-nii-san!”

He had anticipated Shoyo’s excitement, he had _not_ expected the little ball of fire with bright orange pigtails to be _launched_ at him from all the way across the room.

Kageyama fell to the ground before he had even fully processed what had happened. Vaguely, he could make out the sound over laughter around him as he tried to comprehend the face that was leaned in too close, and the weight on his chest.

“Hi! I’m Natsu and we’re going to totally beat you today!” she proclaimed, smiling. “Shoyo has talked a lot about you! He thinks your really cool and cute and— “

“Natsu, that’s enough,” came a soft, amused voice from behind Natsu. She leaped up and stood behind the silver haired man who had instructed her to stop. He offered a hand to help Kageyama off of the floor, smiling apologetically. Tobio dusted himself off, straightening out his clothing.

“Thanks.” Tobio nodded his head, trying to offer a smile back. He briefly noted that he was taller than the silver haired man. That would probably be an advantage in game.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Refreshing,” rang out Oikawa’s voice, sounding distinctly competitive. Mr. Refreshing? Oh, god. Did they know each other?

“Oikawa? And _Iwaizumi._ Oh, my god,” he said in a state of shock approaching Tobio’s parents. His presumable husband, a dark-haired man, also shorter than Kageyama, walked up as well, a kind smile on his face.

“Suga and Daichi. Who would have thought?” Iwa asked rhetorically, laughing a little. Reaching out to shake their hands. It was a weird reunion. One of acquaintances, but not friends. The fact that they didn’t know each other all that well was obvious. Kageyama was already bracing himself for the small talk.

“We could ask you the same thing,” the dark-haired man, now identified as Daichi, said. “I _never_ took you two as the parental types.”

“We didn’t either,” Oikawa admitted, looking a little surprised.

“I can’t believe it. _Both_ of our kids ended up in volleyball? How does that even happen?” Suga wondered aloud.

“I would say genetics, but that clearly doesn’t apply,” Iwaizumi joked, even with his voice flat.

“Are we gonna play volleyball or what?” Hinata spoke up for the first time, holding the ball over his head, looking impatient.

He saw _all four_ of the parents present roll their eyes fondly. They’d raised such volleyball freaks.

Teams were set up, stretches were completed. Oikawa and Kageyama played a fierce game of rock paper scissors in order to decide who would play setter on their team. It wasn’t like they couldn’t play other positions, both of them were perfectly competent when it came to spiking and receiving, but they both _preferred_ to play setter. It was the best position, obviously.

Kageyama pouted when he lost the position to his dad, but didn’t complain, getting into position dutifully, keeping his chin held high, ready to win.

“We’re going to win,” Kageyama challenged Shoyo through the net, his gaze sharp.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Daichi served the first ball. It was a typical serve, not weak, but not powerful. He had great control over it, though, sending it right to where their defense was weakest. Iwa received the ball with ease, sending it right to Oikawa.

“Tobio!” Dad called to him, as if he wasn’t already moving to spike.

It was a damn near perfect straight, and with that, Tobio’s team had scored the very first point of the game.

The scores stayed fairly even throughout the game. The most either team pulled ahead was by five points, and even that streak was squashed pretty quickly, much to Tooru’s chagrin. It grew more and more obvious to Tobio throughout the game why he’d been known as the grand king in high school.

Despite being into volleyball his entire life, Tobio had only ever played with his parents a handful of times. This was the first time in _years_ that he’d done so. There was a sort of air around them, a competitive passion that Tobio so rarely ever saw. Even after years not playing volleyball regularly, their attacks were so well executed and thoroughly synchronized.

“Iwa-chan!” he would call out, even after the ball had left the tips of his fingers. He didn’t need to call out, though. Every time, Iwaizumi was already there, ready for the ball to reach him like it had so many times before. Tobio’s breath would catch every time he watched. Recordings couldn’t do this justice. The satisfaction that came with the _slam_ and the bounce of the ball on the floor, the satisfaction of a point scored. That couldn’t be felt through a television screen.

He was even more dazzled by Oikawa’s incredible jump serve.

It was something he’d envied for a _very_ long time. He’d begged, and pleaded with Dad to teach him it, but was turned down every time.

It felt like it was in slow motion, the toss, the jump, the ball flying to the other side of the court _just_ in bounds. Tobio didn’t know if he could ever execute a service ace that perfectly. No matter how many times he watched it, no matter how hard he tried to imitate it, he always fell short.

Hinata was mesmerizing as well. Tobio’s eyes followed his every move throughout the game, stunned every time he made a successful spike. His speed was _astounding,_ and the height of his jumps seemed nearly impossible. Still, he managed to do them again and again. A few times he even managed to block out Kageyama’s spikes. Suga’s sets were beautiful, albeit slow. Daichi’s receives were fantastic, and his spikes scored plenty of points. Not enough points for them to actually win the game, but enough for them to gain a few points off of it.

They put up a good fight. Ultimately, it wasn’t enough. Kageyama, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi were too damn _polished_ for them to win.

Kageyama felt _chills_ run down his back when Iwa’s spike hit the floor. The quick was so fast, he’d barely seen the set up. All he felt was the sensation of victory washing over him in the end.

With the warmth that filled his body regarding victory, and the celebratory shouts that came from his parents, and the polite clapping from Suga and Daichi, it was a little overwhelming. It wasn’t a serious game, the score keeping might have even been a little inaccurate. None of that mattered, though. Not when Tobio had been able to play with Iwa and Dad, not when his point to Hinata was proven.

“Good game, guys!” Suga congratulated with a smile. Tobio only sensed a _hint_ of bitterness in his tone. “It’s been so long since I’ve played like that, I’d almost forgotten how it felt.”

“It was a lot of fun,” Iwa agreed, nodding.

“I _told you,_ ” Kageyama said to Hinata, looking smug.

“You didn’t tell me they were _that_ good!” Hinata protested. He then mumbled irritably, “I would have practiced harder if I’d known they’d be that spectacular.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said we’d win.”

“I thought you were being arrogant like always. You always brag, but you don’t get to play in games, and your sets always seem slow.” Hinata put his hands on his hips, puffing air a little irritably from his nose.

“My sets are not _slow,_ my spikers are.” Kageyama rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms. It’s not like it wasn’t true. Kunimi always seemed lethargic, even when he was jumping for a spike. And Kindaichi hesitated to jump. It was indecisive of him, and he needed more confidence. No _wonder_ Kageyama’s sets came off as slow.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ll prove it! Let me toss to you!”

It took longer than they anticipated to convince Natsu to throw the ball to Kageyama so that he could set for Shoyo. The adults were wrapped up in some sort of serious-looking conversation, so they couldn’t bother them, but they _could_ bother the little ball of energy who didn’t seem to be doing much. After they explained to her—and bribed her a little—she finally agreed to it.

 _One, two, three,_ the amount of tosses that Kageyama had sent to Hinata. They were all a little different. The first was closer to the net, the second had more spin on it, the third was a little higher than the rest of them. Contrasting the tosses didn’t matter, especially when Shoyo didn’t manage to spike a _single one of them._ Every time the ball flew right in front of him, a little faster than he was.

Well, if Kageyama was trying to prove his speed, that certainly would do the trick.

Hinata was clearly frustrated, his eyes dead serious and focused, and his body in a prepared stance. Tobio got the feeling that if he didn’t toss until Hinata hit one, the boy might physically assault him.

Another three tosses, all a little different, just like the first three. Another three misses, all exactly the same, just like the first three.

Kageyama grew frustrated as well. He _knew_ Hinata was fast enough to hit his tosses. He’d _seen_ him go that fast. So why couldn’t he do that now?

“Stop thinking about it!” Kageyama snapped at him. “Stop worrying about the set. I’ll bring the ball to you. Have confidence in me, and _jump_.”

Shoyo stared at him for a long time before he responded:

“Okay.”

Kageyama shut his eyes, taking deep, calming breaths. He had to focus, focus on Hinata. Where is he? How fast is he moving? When will he jump? How high? Where would his hand be?

It was like a target had formed midair.

The ball lifted off his fingers, to _exactly_ where Hinata’s palm was.

 _Slam!_ The ball on the floor on the other side of the net.

 _Bounce, bounce._ The settling of the ball from the force of the impact.

“ _Oh, my god!”_ Hinata’s excited shout at Kageyama. “What _was_ that? That—that was _incredible!_ You’re incredible!”

Tobio was still in shock that the attack had actually _succeeded_. He’d never— _nothing_ could compare to such a perfect quick.

He had to play volleyball with Hinata again. He needed to play with him as often as possible.

The speed, the height, the _force._ They could dominate teams with a weapon like that.

His heart _raced_ as he was coming down from the high of such a sensation. He would never tire of volleyball if he could do that all the time.

Tobio had always had a sincere passion for volleyball. He was talented at it, and his height gave him a natural advantage. Somehow, after so many years of adoring volleyball, Shoyo Hinata had reignited his passion for the sport. Fire burned inside of him. He wanted to do that again, and again, and again. Until the sun was going down, and his arms refused to do any more.

If Shoyo continued playing like that, Tobio might fall in love with him.

***

Tournament time again. Tensions run high, and excitement buzzes through the air. If they won today’s games, Tobio would get to play against Karasuno tomorrow. That is, assuming that Karasuno wins their games. Needless to say, he was _very_ excited to be playing.

His teammates were excited as well, apparently.

“Did you see them?” Kindaichi asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet while hovering next to Kunimi.

“How could I miss them? They’re so obvious,” Kunimi answered rhetorically, smirking and looking more excited than Kageyama had ever seen him. Kunimi. _Excited._ About a _volleyball game._ Tobio temporarily felt like he was seeing some weird alternate version of Kunimi who showed emotion and smiled before playing a match. Kageyama’s Kunimi was a low energy asshole. Not this impostor.

“We _have_ to win,” Kindaichi asserted, grinning. “Maybe they’ll come and talk to us if we do. Congratulate us or something.”

“Who?” Kageyama interjected. His curiosity would eat him up if he didn’t ask now. He could whoever these special guests to attend more games. Aoba Johsai would flourish if Kunimi and Kindaichi were this motivated to win.

“You probably don’t even know who they are.” Kindaichi rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“If you haven’t recognized them already, then you don’t deserve to know,” Kunimi huffed, his mostly neutral face turning pouty. Kageyama thought it might have been Kunimi’s version of a scowl. To be fair, however, he hadn’t ever seen Kunimi excited until two seconds before. It was a safe assumption that he didn’t know Akira as well as other people might.

“How will I know who _they_ are if you don’t tell me?” Tobio pointed out. Kindaichi wrinkled his nose at the somewhat logical words.

“It’s just—” Akira started.

“—Aoba Johsai _legends_ Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime,” Yuutarou finished.

Wait. _Seriously?_ Those bastards hadn’t told him they were coming! What the hell?

He stared blankly as he processed the words. He should call Dad and yell at him. This was probably his idea. Would it have been so hard to send a quick text telling Tobio that they were attending today? Really?

Oh, god. He hoped they weren’t embarrassing. Tobio wouldn’t be able to make a service ace if they were being embarrassing!

“I can tell from your blank stare that you have no idea who we’re talking about,” Kindaichi abruptly interrupted his thoughts. Tobio nearly _laughed._ No idea who he was talking about? He _lived_ with them.

“You’re right,” Tobio lied, holding back a laugh. He fished his phone out of his pocket and send a quick text. The _least_ he could do was let Kindaichi and Kunimi know that they’d been picking on their idol’s kid for years. Not to mention, they _definitely_ should apologize for showing up without telling him.

“Exactly what we thought. You should learn more about your school’s history,” Akira scolded.

 _I know more than you,_ Kageyama thought. _You probably don’t know that they banged multiple times in the school locker room._

“It is a little weird that they didn’t bring anyone else with them,” Kindaichi mused. “You’d think that at least one of them would have a partner by now. Maybe even a kid.”

_They do. They have each other. And me._

“Oikawa’s pretty attractive, isn’t he? Surely, he has an omega girlfriend or something. There’s no way someone isn’t tapping that,” Kunimi agreed, nodding his head slightly.

_He has an alpha husband, thank you very much._

“Iwaizumi is too, I guess. I dunno, though. Something makes me feel like he’s more hardened and serious.”

_He’s a fantastic baker and likes watching cheesy action movies._

“We could ask them.”

_Dad really wouldn’t like that._

“That’s creepy. We should ask if they want to come in to coach us a little sometime.”

_You don’t want either of them coaching you in anything._

“Do you really think they would agree to that? They’re schedules are probably busy.”

_They’d make time for it._

“Maybe we should just hold off and see if they come down to congratulate the team at all. If they don’t then we don’t even have to worry about it,” Kindaichi suggested, shrugging.

“I think Kindaichi is right,” Kageyama agreed. He _had_ arranged for them to come down anyway. It would be better if they were flustered when he met Kageyama’s completely normal and really dorky parents.

He couldn’t imagine being star struck by his own parents. Not when he knew about the thirty Star Wars shirts they shared, or the awful vintage Godzilla shirts, or the fact that they owned all six seasons of Lost, or that debates about Marvel and DC movies were quite frequent in their household. He couldn’t imagine being star struck by the Oikawa that swore like a sailor every time they played Mario Kart. He couldn’t imagine being star struck by the Iwaizumi who’d never lost a game of Tetris.

That was just him, though. Perhaps he had a little too much insight.

Kindaichi and Kunimi stared at him, stunned.

“You think I’m _right?_ ” Kindaichi asked incredulously, his eye wide with shock.

“Don’t bother them if they don’t want to be bothered.” He shrugged it off. “We need to head out for warm ups.”

“Y-yeah.”

It was a _weird_ game against Dateko. They were a reasonable opponent, not so strong that they were overwhelming, but not so weak that they didn’t put up a real fight. That nice, healthy level of challenge that Tobio so enjoyed. That’s not what made it weird, though.

What made it _weird_ was Kunimi and Kindaichi, who didn’t complain when he was put in to play setter. They didn’t mutter about his tosses, or throw a snide comment his way. Not a _single_ reference to the royal title they’d given him so long ago. They were acting like his _teammates._ Teammates! Kindaichi even _called for a toss._

Kageyama had put the ball up for him, but it didn’t stop him from staring at Yuutaro, completely baffled by his willingness to play with Kageyama.

Even though Tobio barely got to play a set, he was satisfied with the game that his parents had watched. It made him look like he got along with his teammates way more than he actually did. That was probably something that his parents would commend. Especially after his not so great track record.

(It’s not like it was a _secret_ that Tobio didn’t get along so well with others…)

The victory was satisfying, the cheers for Seijoh drowned out the repetitive and catchy cheers for Dateko. It took a lot for Tobio not to turn and wave at his parents in the crowd. He knew that doing so would give his plan away to Kunimi and Kindaichi, but he still _wanted_ to. They were his biggest fans.

The team spread out around the stadium. Some went to spectate the Karasuno game, others went outside for whatever reason. Kageyama, Kunimi, and Kindaichi all went towards the bathrooms. Tobio really just wanted to refill his water bottle.

It worked out for him, though.

“Tobio! That was a fantastic match,” Iwa called out from behind him, walking with Oikawa, looking like a power couple. The stylish jeans, and Oikawa’s blazer, and Iwaizumi’s jacket that was probably from the nineties.

He claimed he was never star struck by his parents, but sometimes he was a _little_ star struck.

Oikawa put a hand on his shoulder, giving him that _look._ The one he always gave Tobio when he’d watched him play. The ‘that was great, but…’ look.

“I absolutely agree,” he nodded. “You still need to work on controlling your serves, though. Some of yours were practically _begging_ to be received.”

“You know, I wouldn’t _have_ to work on my serves if you would just _show_ me—” Tobio started. He was quickly shut down when Oikawa put a finger to his lips.

“Not happening, sweetie.” Tobio sent an incredulous look to Iwa, who shrugged at him in response.

“It’s really best not to press it,” he dismissed, chuckling when Tobio wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“I can’t believe Karasuno even managed to make it this far. Weren’t they really lame a little while ago?” Kindaichi asked mostly rhetorically to Kunimi.

“I think we’ll beat them pretty easily. Their setter is a total rookie,” Kunimi answered. Hinata hadn’t talked much about his setter, only that he was a friend from middle school. His name was…Izumi? Something like that. He was inexperienced, that was for sure, but underestimating an opponent was the easiest way to lose a game.

“Then how did they even make it this fa—” Kindaichi finally looked up, freezing in place when he saw Iwaizumi and Oikawa, his eyes going big as saucers. “ _Akira._ ”

“What— _oh.”_

“The middle blockers!” Oikawa cheered when he made eye contact with them. “Kindaichi and Kunimi, right? I’ve heard lots about you.” He went to offer a handshake to both of them, but the pair stayed still, just staring at him. Kageyama bit his lip, it’s true, he _had_ heard lots about them. Mostly negative comments from Kageyama.

Like that one time that he _punched_ Kindaichi over a classist remark.

“You were talking to Kageyama?” Kindaichi looked a little bit jealous, maybe a little bit bitter.

“Yes? He _is_ our son, after all,” Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at them, and sent a glace towards Tobio. Kindaichi and Kunimi both turned to him as well.

“But you said—” Kindaichi protested.

“It was too good of an opportunity to pass up,” Kageyama admitted offering an awkward smile. “To be fair, I didn’t know they were coming to the game.”

“I didn’t even know they were together,” Kunimi commented, pouting again.

“I didn’t realize they had a kid!” Kindaichi added. “I didn’t know Kageyama was adopted!”

“If you really don’t believe us, I think I have baby pictures of Tobio on my phone,” Oikawa offered, smirking at Tobio.

“Dad, _no._ ”

***

They beat Karasuno the next day.

No. That was an understatement.

They _crushed_ Karasuno.

Hinata had hissed at Kageyama through the net before the game even started, insisting he play his hardest even though they were dating. He promised that he’d still kiss him if Seijoh won.

So, Tobio did just that. He, and the rest of the team played with vigor. Kindaichi and Kunimi were more amicable since yesterday, more willing to listen to Kageyama’s requests as long as they were reasonable. Kunimi even went up for jumps when they were unnecessary.

Karasuno couldn’t keep up. Even with a fantastic libero, a confident captain, a strong ace, and Shoyo, they couldn’t keep up. Their serves were weak, and their receives needed help. Their setter simply couldn’t keep up with Shoyo and the ace. Kageyama almost wanted to volunteer to step in for him. Karasuno still would have lost with Kageyama on their side, but they wouldn’t have seemed so _pitiful._

They didn’t even have to play a third set. His heart ached for Shoyo. He could be such a weapon on any team but his own. If he transferred to Aoba Johsai, they could become an ultimate team. Hinata would never accept that, being stubborn like he was.  

Tobio sought him out afterwards, intent on apologizing. He hadn’t expected it to go so poorly, he didn’t want Hinata to quit over this. He _couldn’t_ quit over this game. Tobio would never forgive him for that.

“Shoyo, I’m—”

“Don’t!” Shoyo interrupted. His voice was strong even when tears came to his eyes. “Don’t apologize to me! You were the strongest team today, and you won, but I’ll beat you one day. I _will._ Okay?” Shoyo’s presence seemed so huge, even though his stature didn’t match. Tobio had to resist stepping back from him.

“I’ll put up a good fight, you know.” Tobio crossed his arms over his chest, leaning down so their noses were almost brushing.

“I’d be mad if you didn’t.” Hinata pushed closer so that their noses bumped. “You’re coming with me to the top.”

“I’ll race you there,” Kageyama muttered, pressing his lips to Hinata’s.

They kept their promise. They played through high school, taking some wins, taking some losses. Kageyama wouldn’t soon forget the first practice match they had against each other as first years.

They went to the same college, and took down stronger opponents together. Their quick attack that had barely succeeded grew into a fantastic weapon, breaking down wall after wall after wall. They were an infamous duo, the freak omega pair that possessed ungodly speed. Somewhere along the way, they ended up falling more in love than they’d ever anticipated.

Shoyo cried when Tobio proposed to him. They didn’t wear their rings when they played, it was a little too much of a risk to their fingers, but every time they came off the court, the matching set of rings came on again. Hinata would twiddle with his when they were interviewed. At some point, the interviewees noticed it, and they were then known as the strongest, and most progressive duo in professional volleyball. Two omegas in an alpha dominated sport that were _also_ dating? People ate it up.

They knew each other so well. The shared nearly every part of their lives. Tobio had _never_ imagined his life turning out like this. Like a dream, or the happy ending of a movie. Except it was _real,_ and it was his.

Even with all of that, Hinata could _still_ throw him for a loop after all these years.

“Tobio, I think we should have a kid.”

He dropped his bowl of cereal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you in suspense yet?  
> WELL. you should be. I have so many side stories and spinoffs planned for this universe.   
> First up, obviously, will be Kagehina and their kid(s)! A direct sequel to this work.  
> Then, I'm also hoping to post more iwaoi from this universe, and a ~special~ daisuga work that sort of explains their relationship and why they adopted Hinata and Natsu.   
> Others may come as i get more ideas, idk.   
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading. A special thanks to those who have commented and left kudos! Much love to y'all.


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